 | Silex Scintillans |  |
63
II.
How kind is heav'n to man! If hereOne sinner doth amend
Strait there is Joy, and ev'ry sphere
In musick doth Contend;
And shall we then no voices lift?
Are mercy, and salvation
Not worth our thanks? Is life a gift
Of no more acceptation?
Shal he that did come down from thence,
And here for us was slain,
Shal he be now cast off? no sense
Of all his woes remain?
Can neither Love, nor suff'rings bind?
Are we all stone, and Earth?
Neither his bloudy passions mind,
Nor one day blesse his birth?
Alas, my God! Thy birth now here
Must not be numbred in the year.
| Silex Scintillans | |