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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On Judgment. |
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On Judgment.
Judge of the World, we wretched sinners quake,Our Consciences do ake;
And well they may, whenas we think
Of the fierce dreadful fire
Of thine Ire,
And Phials thou shalt make
Us sinners drink:
For thou the Wine-press of thy wrath wilt tread
With feet of lead.
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Can shelter from thy face?
The Earth will shrink out of thy sight;
The Heavens too, that cannot erre,
Then shall fear
Thee and thy Laws, and from thee take their flight:
So burnt with glory, their bright eyes shall, dead,
Burst from their head,
Great God, can we,
Thy Enemies, abide to see
Such a glorious Majesty?
We beg thy mercy, Lord: Thy Judgment-seat
We dare not to intreat,
For we are all condemned there.
Lord, then O cast a look
On thy Book
Of Life; behold, we read
A Saving Jesus here,
And in that Name our sure Salvation see:
Lord, make us free,
And cross within
Our scores of sin;
That cancel'd, all our debts are paid by thee.
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