University of Virginia Library

On Good-Friday.

The Lamb is eaten, and is yet again
Preparing to be slain;
The cup is full and mixt,
And must be drunk:
Wormwood and gall
To this, are draughts to beguile care withall,
Yet the decree is fixt.
Doubled knees, and groans, and cries,
Prayers and sighs, and flowing eyes
Could not intreat
His sad soul, sunk

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Under the heavy preasure of our sin:
The pains of Death and Hell
About Him dwell.
His Father's burning wrath did make
His very heart, like melting wax, to sweat
Rivers of blood,
Through the pure strainer of his skin,
His boiling body stood
Bubling all o're
As if the wretched whole were but one dore
To let in pain and grief,
And turn out all relief.
O Thou, Who for our sake
Dids't drink up
This bitter cup:
Remember us, we pray,
In Thy day,
When down
The strugling throats of wicked men
The dregs of Thy just fury shall be thrown.
Oh then
Let Thy unbounded mercy think
On us, for whom
Thou underwent'st this heavy doom,
And give us of the well of life to drink.
Amen.