The Spirit compar'd to Wind

O Lord 'tis sharp, 'tis very cold,
A Fire let us have;
We seem benumm'd both young and old,
Thy Spirit we do crave,

'Tis that will warm and quicken us
Who are so flat and dead;
Shall we lye starving and chill'd thus,
As if all joys were fled?

There is in us so little heat,
Our Spirits are so faint,
O blow thy fire we intreat,
That spark in ev'y Saint:

It does give light, and also warmth,
Yea 'twill revive us so,
That we shall mount and high ascend
Above all things below.

Let it consume and seize upon
That Chaff which is within;
O let it burn in every one,
And quite consume our sin!

Ye Saints take heed ye quench it not,
But let it vehement burn,
And kindle so, that every sin
It may to Ashes turn.

Without this fire we can't work,
Nor any business do,
Life, motion, and activity,
Always from him does flow.