ALMIGHTIE Judge, how shall poore wretches brook Thy dreadful look, Able a heart of iron to appall, When thou shalt call For ev'ry mans peculiar book? What others mean to do, I know not well; Yet I heare tell, That some will turn thee to some leaves therein So void of sinne. That they in merit shall excell. But I resolve, when thou shalt call for mine, That to decline, And thrust a Testament into thy hand: Let that be scann'd. There thou shalt finde my faults are thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT ESCAPE AT BEDTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON FROM HIDDEN SOURCE by JEAN ANDERSON THE HAPPY NIGHTINGALE by PHILIP AYRES S. BARNABAS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |