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32. On a Bath.

Tears are a Bath, My soul bathe thee therein,
When Peter had defil'd himself with sin,
He washd his soul with penetential tears,
The water of Contrition heals and clears:
The tears which impure Mary did impart.
Not onely washd Christs feet, but cleans'd her heart.
O sinners, make your eyes a flowing fount
Of tears, weep for those sins you cannot count.
Christs blood's a Bath, a fount set ope for sin
And for uncleanness: Go, my soul, step in
And bathe thee there, his Blood will scour so,
That crimson sins shall seem as white as snow.
O tis this Blood of Christ that lays the soul
A whitening, these two bathes do make souls whole.