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To where they'are bred, and would press me to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
VII.
At the round earths imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, Angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies goe,
All whom the floud did, and fire shall overthrow,
All whom warr, death, age, agues tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God, and never taste deaths woe;
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For, if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace,
When we are there. Here on this holy ground,
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou had'st seal'd my pardon, with my blood.
VIII.
If faithful souls be alike glorifi'd
As Angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicitie,
That valiantly I hels wide mouth o'restride:
But if our minds to these souls be descride,
By circumstances and by signes that be
Apparent in us not immediately,
How shall my minds white truth by them be tri'd?
They see Idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,
And stile blasphemous Conjurers to call
On Jesus name, and Pharisaicall
Dissemblers fein devotion. Then turn

[CW: O]