The humble Enquiry.
A French Sonnet imitated. 1695.
Grand Dieu, tes Jugemens, &c.
I
Grace rules below, and sits enthron'd above,
How few the sparks of wrath! how slow they move,
And drop and die in boundless seas of love!
II
But me, vile wretch! should pitying love embrace
Deep in its ocean, hell itself would blaze,
And flash and burn me thro' the boundless seas.
III
Yea, Lord, my guilt to such a vastness grown
Seems to confine thy choice to wrath alone,
And calls thy power to vindicate thy throne.
IV
Thine honour bids, ‘Avenge thy injur'd name,’
Thy slighted loves a dreadful glory claim,
While my moist tears might but incense thy flame.
V
Should heaven grow black, almighty thunder roar,
And vengeance blast me, I could plead no more,
But own thy justice dying, and adore.
VI
Yet can those bolts of death that cleave the flood
To reach a rebel, pierce this sacred shroud,
Ting'd in the vital stream of my Redeemer's blood?
