Joanna Southcott: Unpublished Manuscripts

 

Sun drawing Water, Woolands Wheel etc. August 23rd 1796.

 

I was ordered to look at the Sun at five in the evening, and the sun was drawing Water with Clouds all round it, and set with fiery clouds arising in the east.

 

Then to the Eastern part now come

Number the days are past and gone

Then twenty days it sure hath shined

And four more must be behind

If I my jury make complete

So here the mysteries here are great

For now the water I shall draw

To make my jury stand in awe

For every fountain I will fill

The four stars in Woolands wheel

Shalt spread the streams on all the Land

But that thou do not understand

For I shall fill the fountain high

And soon with blackness fill the sky

Let my shepherds now awake

The rocky hearts I bid them break

For like my Bible I now shall do

The end is coming to their view

And let the wise explain the Psalm (2nd Psalm)

For the fulfilment is at hand

But deeper mysteries lie behind

That thou another day shall find

From 1Potters words I’ll answer here

And tell thee deep's the mystery

And why a blast doth so appear

He caus’d the mist which brought it here

Then now to reason I’ll begin

The mist is on the sons of men

That every harvest doth appear

Now I shall make the mystery clear

Over the Earth a mist appear’d

When thou thy writings sealed here

I said ‘twas for the sons of men

And every harvest it was seen

I said the stars were sealed up

I said not one of them should drop

And now ‘tis coming to the year

That now shall make the mystery clear

Now for my chosen it doth shine

Thou’st little know what lies behind

Nor how my thunder it will break

But mark how Wooland he did speak

To say the moon appear’d like blood

Now let the words by understood

And know the answer thou didst make

It was like fire ordain’d for heat

Then all these words I say are deep

The blood and fire there will break

Like flames of fire they will appear

For so when I have ended here

And all the earth the heat they’ll feel

That will the hearts of thousands chill

In Woolands hands the pike do go

And Satan shall receive the blow

His hand shall slip behind my cord

He’ll leave my Wheat and tumble down.

 

1Potter lived with Mr Wooland