The Temple
Table of Contents
Catalogue of Titles
Logos Virtual Library
Catalogue
The Temple
The Church
Sighs and Grones
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After my sinnes! look not on my desert, But on thy glorie! then thou wilt reform And not refuse me: for thou onely art The mightie God, but I a sillie worm; For what account can thy ill steward make? I have abus’d thy stock, destroy’d thy woods, Suckt all thy magazens: my head did ake, Till it found out how to consume thy goods: I have deserv’d that an Egyptian night Should thicken all my powers; because my lust Hath still sow’d fig-leaves to exclude thy light: But I am frailtie, and already dust; With the turn’d viall of thy bitter wrath! For thou hast other vessels full of bloud, A part wherof my Saviour empti’d hath, Ev’n unto death: since he di’d for my good, For thou hast life and death at thy command; Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod, Cordiall and Corrosive: put not thy hand Into the bitter box; but O my God, |
 The Church Ungratefulnesse |
 The Church The World |