A godlie father sitting on a draught
to do as need and nature hath us taught,
Mumbled as was his manner certayn prayers,
And unto him the Devill straight repayres,
And boldly to revile him he begins,
Alledging that such prayres were deadly sins
And that yt proov'd he was devoyde of grace
to speake to God from so unfitt a place.
The reverent man, though at the first dismayd,
Yet stronge in faith, thus to the Devill he sayd.
Thou damned Spirite, wicked false and lying,
dispayring thine own good, and ours envying
each take his dew, and me thou canst not hurt
to god my prayr I meant, to thee the durt.
Pure prayer ascends to him that high doth sitt,
Down falls the filth for fields of hell more fitt.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Prayer in the Privy
John Harrington A Dish of Daynties for the Devill: