PROLOGUE

Lord, Can a Crumb of Earth the Earth outweigh 
Outmatch all mountains, nay the Crystal Sky? 
Imbosom in’t designs that shall Display 
And trace into the Boundless Deity? 
Yea, hand a Pen whose moysture doth guild ore5.
Eternal Glory with a glorious glore. 

If it its Pen had of an Angels Quill, 
And sharpened on a Precious Stone ground tite, 
And dipt in Liquid Gold, and mov’de by skill 
In Christall leaves should golden Letters write, 
It would but blot and blur: yea, jag and jar5.
Unless thou mak’st the Pen and Scrivener. 

I am this Crumb of Dust which is design’d 
To make my Pen unto thy Praise alone, 
And my dull Phancy I would gladly grinde 
Unto an edge on Zions Pretious Stone 
And Write in Liquid Gold upon thy Name5.
My Letters till Thy glory forth doth flame. 

Let not th’ attempts break down my Dust I pray 
Nor laugh Thou them to scorn, but pardon give. 
Inspire this Crumb of Dust till it display 
Thy glory through’t: and then thy dust shall live. 
Its failings then thou’lt overlook I trust,5.
They being Slips slipt from thy Crumb of Dust. 

Thy Crumb of Dust breaths two words from its breast, 
That thou wilt guide its pen to write aright 
To Prove thou art, and that thou art the best 
And show Thy Properties to shine most bright 
And then thy Works will shine as flowers on Stems5.
Or as in Jewellary Shops, do jems.