The Submission

Father, forgive my passion and rash words: Yet 1*11 be thine: I’ll own no other Lords. Seeing thou wilt accept so frail a worm, That can without thee no good thing perform; Still I’ll be thine, and stand to what I said, When I my covenant and resignment made.

I’ll rather groan within, and suffer more, Than laugh with them that stand without thy door. O let thy will attract and perfect mine! Hereafter not my will be done, but thine. And let the roughest way seem fair and even, That hath thy presence, and doth lead to Heaven. And as thou bid’st me, evermore rejoice, Give me a joyful heart, and praising voice, Suffer not sin to foil thy grace and me; But make me such as thou wouldst have me be. Let streams of love flow from thy open breast; And let me wait, and long to feel the Rest.