Deer God, If thy smart Rod Here did not make me sorrie, I sho'd not be With Thine, or Thee, In Thy eternall Glorie. But since Thou didst convince My sinnes, by gently striking; Add still to those First stripes, new blowes, According to Thy liking. Feare me, Or scourging teare me; That thus from vices driven, I may from Hell Flie up, to dwell With Thee, and Thine in Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MUSIC AND MEMORY by JOHN ALBEE OLNEY HYMNS: 49. JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING by WILLIAM COWPER TO THE PLIOCENE SKULL by FRANCIS BRET HARTE MEDITATION AT KEW by ANNA WICKHAM MY BEAUTIFUL LADY by THOMAS WOOLNER PSALM 5. VERBA MEA AURIBUS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |