Spirit alone.

THus am I daily hurried to and fro,
From vice to vice, still am I forc'd to go
With him to each lewd practise, Thou whose might
Is most Omnipotent and infinite,
Send me a guard of vertues, such as are
Perfect, and powerful for a Civil War.
Faith, thou shalt be my General, and lead
My warlike Troops, thou on sure ground dost tread:
Let us march on then, victory is sure,
When as the Lord of Hosts makes all secure;
Prepare thee Flesh, I come to war, not woo,
Although thou bring the world and Divel too;
And e're this sacred Battel we conclude,
Thy might, or mine, or both, shall be subdu'd.