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15. Now is the crowne falne from our head; and woe |
Be unto us, because we'have sinned so. |
16. For this our hearts doe languish, and for this |
Over our eyes a cloudy dimnesse is. |
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17. Because mount Sion desolate doth lie, |
And foxes there doe goe at libertie: |
18. But thou ô Lord art ever, and thy throne |
From generation, to generation. |
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19. Why shouldst thou forget us eternally? |
Or leave us thus long in this miserie? |
20. Restore us Lord to thee, that so we may |
Returne, and as of old, renew our day. |
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21. For oughtest thou, ô Lord, despise us thus |
22. And to be utterly inrag'd at us? |
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On himselfe. |
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My Fortune and my choice this custome break, |
When we are speechlesse grown, to make stones speak, |
Though no stone tel thee what I was, yet thou |
In my graves inside seest what thou art now: |
Yet thou art not yet so good, till death us lay |
To ripe and mellow here, we are stubborne Clay. |
Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie |
Vs to be glasse; here to grow gold we lie; |
Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pamper'd is, |
Our soules become wormeaten carkases; |
So we our selves miraculously destroy. |
Here bodies with lesse miracle enjoy |
Such priviledges, enabled here to scale |
Heaven, when the Trumpets ayre shall them exhale.
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[CW: Heare] |