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Poesis Rediviva

or, Poesie Reviv'd. By John Collop
 
 

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Vox pœnitentiæ.
 
 
 
 
 

Vox pœnitentiæ.

I, I, ah I thee Lord betraid!
While sin strange insurrections made;
I, I, like him with lips durst kisse,
Who sought out's hell, at gates of blisse.
My sins ah scourges buffets are;
My sins ah thorns, thy temples tare.
My sin presents the spear, nails, gall,
Renews thy sweat, death, buriall.
Yet while I Lord with Mary come,
Early with spices to thy tomb;
With balm of pennance waiting there,
To offer odours up in prayer.
After repentant showrs of dew,
Angels my Sun's arise shall shew,
Heark, heark, who's both the light and way,
Calls thee my soul, make hast, obey.
Ah loads of sin and flesh! can I
A Camel passe a needles eye?

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Say, oh say not! that heav'n gate
Too narrow is, or way too strait.
Faith and good works can dispossess,
Thee both thy Loades, of sin, and flesh;
And so convei'd on wings of pray'r.
Thou maist like incense enter there.
So shalt thou find a way not strait,
He kneels who enters at Heav'n gate.