Poetical fragments heart-employment with God and it selfPoetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self

Our narrow minds see here and there a letter, Not rightly placed, and therefore read no better: We make the Events of this day our sorrow, Because we know not what will be to morrow. Things present, past and future; old and new, Thou seest entirely with one single view. Thou seest all at home that's understood: Loving thy self, thou lovest all that's Good. Goodness it self, and perfect Excellence, Transcending humane Reason, Will and Sense: Good in thy self, and to thy self alone, Before thou wast to any creature known. Blest in thy own Eternal pleasing sight; Thy own Eternal Love, Thy own Delight. ⟨p. 4⟩Those that can find in Thee no greater Good, Than that thou givest them life, and health, & food, And bountifully from thy ample Treasure Blessest thy creatures with desired pleasure, Set up themselves, and do the worst they can, To make themselves the Gods, and Thee the Man. They that can love thee but for loving them, Make thee the casket, and themselves the gem. To love thy self is infinitely better, Than if Love made a world of worlds its debtor. Thy own Perfections by Attraction move, As the chief formal Object of Man's Love. Though our own Good we may, and must intend; Thy simple Goodness is Man's chiefest End. They that deny this, never knew Love's force, Which to mere Excellence hath its recourse: Or never well considered Love's End, Which unto Good, for Goodness sake doth tend. To be Man's End, is but to be most Loved: And Good's the Lodestone by which Love is moved. What though to Thee the creature nothing add? That proves Thee perfect; neither weak nor bad; And therefore fit to be the Final Cause, Which all hearts by attractive Goodness draws: Love is the Final and Enjoying act; Closing with Thee by thy Magnetic tract: Not as it mourneth for the Good we want; Nor as it after distant Good doth pant; […] as it reacheth its desires: And more as it with Pleasure Thee admires. ⟨p. 5⟩This Love, besides its Object, hath no End: It doth not to some Higher Virtue tend: But from a seed, grows up to higher stature, Of Divine Complacence, which is its nature. All other Grace is but the means to it: They draw the bow; but Love the mark doth hit. But sinners lost in SELF rise not above The lower Region of their own SELF-LOVE. Experience assures me that I can Love a most learned, wise and holy man Unseen, my very heart is to him knit, Without respect to any benefit.

Our narrow minds see here and there a letter, Not rightly plac'd, and therefore read no better: We make the Events of this day our sorrow, Because we know not what will be to morrow. Things present, past and future; old and new, Thou see'st entirely with one single view. Thou seest all at home that's understood: Loving thy self, thou lovest all that's Good. Goodness it self, and perfect Excellence, Transcending humane Reason, Will and Sense: Good in thy self, and to thy self alone, Before thou wast to any creature known. Blest in thy own Eternal pleasing sight; Thy own Eternal Love, Thy own Delight.