Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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The Sinners Tears. |
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The Sinners Tears.
Shed forth apace, and make a BathTo cure my Soul of sin;
Haste out, for God a bottle hath
To keep ye in.
Every Tear is worth a Crown;
It lifts the Soul to Heav'n,
Supports the same from sinking down
To filthy Leav'n.
They're comfort to the Heart, they're ease,
Embassadors to God,
To beg he may his wrath appease,
And spare his Rod.
They're holy Messengers of Saints,
Sent to him to impart.
They're godly sorrows: each Tear paints
Their grief of heart.
Then flow amain, and weep those fords
Or little Rivers dry,
And when I've vented all my hords,
Then I
Will groan because no longer cry;
And die,
That I may live eternally.
| Prison-Pietie | |