Isaac Butterworth

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Yea, Lord, my portion tastes of love, for thy hand has sweetened it. A sacred perfume is on my raiment and in my chamber, for thou hast prepared both for me. And this would be true if I wore rags, and lay in a dungeon, in sore sickness. What a heritage is-mine!
Flowers from a Puritan's Garden, Annotated and Illustrated.
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