 | Poems by Robert Gomersall |  |
Why should not mercy winne us? why should we
Be worse by that, whence we should betterd be?
Blessings were ne're intended for our harme,
Nor should the snake have stung, when he was warme
Him that had warm'd him. O how base is man!
How foolish Irreligion has wanne
Vpon his reason too! Doe we not say
That hee's a beast, whom onely stripes can sway.
O what is man then! who ne're heares his Lord,
Till that the famine call him, or the sword.
Who (as he meant to tyre his patient God)
Yeelds not unto his favours, but his rod.
And can we yet intreat him to be kind,
To alter his, when wee'l not change our mind?
If we are heard, we will offend agen,
And all our pray'r does but intreat a Sinne.
Be worse by that, whence we should betterd be?
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Nor should the snake have stung, when he was warme
Him that had warm'd him. O how base is man!
How foolish Irreligion has wanne
Vpon his reason too! Doe we not say
That hee's a beast, whom onely stripes can sway.
O what is man then! who ne're heares his Lord,
Till that the famine call him, or the sword.
Who (as he meant to tyre his patient God)
Yeelds not unto his favours, but his rod.
And can we yet intreat him to be kind,
To alter his, when wee'l not change our mind?
If we are heard, we will offend agen,
And all our pray'r does but intreat a Sinne.
| Poems by Robert Gomersall | |