 |
|
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
|
|
|
 | A Metrical History of Christianity |  |
Oh! Justice Bright, who will not thee adore?
Thou certainly, although thou long mayst stay,
Wilt call the Wicked out to pay their score,
Or wilt thyselfe give unto them their pay.
Thou greatly art abusd under thy name
Much Wickedness doth pass. Oh! fy for shame.
Thou certainly, although thou long mayst stay,
Wilt call the Wicked out to pay their score,
Or wilt thyselfe give unto them their pay.
Thou greatly art abusd under thy name
Much Wickedness doth pass. Oh! fy for shame.
But now thou comest and blanchest thy white line
Quite through these darksom Clouds, dost shew thy hand
Pure White as Snow: and that no vile design
Can smut thyselfe though some may thinke thee tan'd
Ile kiss thy milke white hand and thee adore
Because thou keepst for all an Eaven Score.
Quite through these darksom Clouds, dost shew thy hand
Pure White as Snow: and that no vile design
Can smut thyselfe though some may thinke thee tan'd
Ile kiss thy milke white hand and thee adore
Because thou keepst for all an Eaven Score.
| A Metrical History of Christianity | |