What shall I say, my Lord? with what begin? Immence Profaneness Wormholes ery part. The World is saddlebackt with Loads of Sin. Sin Craks the Axle tree of this greate Cart. Floodgates of Firy Vengeance open fly And Smoakie Clouds of Wrath darken the Skie. The Fountains of the Deep up broken are. The Cataracts of heaven do boile ore With Wallowing Seas. Thunder, and Lightenings tare Spouts out of Heaven, Floods out from hell do roare. To overflow, and drownd the World all drownd And overflown with Sin, that doth abound. Oh! for an Ark: an Ark of Gopher Wood. This Flood's too stately to be rode upon By other boats, which are base swilling tubs. It gulps them up as gudgeons. And they're gone. But thou, my Lord, dost Antitype this Arke, And rod'st upon these Waves that toss and barke. Thy Humane Nature, (oh Choice Timber Rich) Bituminated ore within, and out With Dressing of the Holy Spirits pitch Propitiatory Grace parg'd round about. This Ark will ride upon the Flood, and live Nor passage to a drop through Chink holes give. This Ark will swim upon the fiery flood: All Showrs of fire the heavens rain on't will Slide off: though Hells and Heavens Spouts out stood And meet upon't to crush't to Shivers, still It neither sinks, breaks, Fires, nor Leaky prooves, But lives upon them all and upward mooves. All that would not be drownded must be in't Be Arkd in Christ, or else the Cursed rout Of Crimson Sins their Cargoe will them sinke And suffocate in Hell, because without. Then Ark me, Lord, thus in thyselfe that I May dance upon these drownding Waves with joye. Sweet Ark, with Concord sweetend, in thee feed The Calfe, and Bare, Lamb, Lion at one Crib. Here Rattlesnake and Squerrell jar not, breed. The Hawk and Dove, the Leopard, and the Kid Do live in Peace, the Child, and Cockatrice. As if Red Sin tantarrow'd in no vice. Take me, my Lord, into thy golden Ark. Then when thy flood of fire shall come, I shall Though Hell spews streams of Flames, and th'Heavens spark Out Storms of burning Coals, swim safe ore all. I'le make thy Curled flames my Citterns Wire To toss my Songs of Praise rung on them, higher. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TELL'S BIRTHPLACE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE W'EN I GITS HOME by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AT THE SAND CREEK BRIDGE by JAMES GALVIN EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING THE BATTLE OF LA PRAIRIE, 1691 by WILLIAM DOUW LIGHTHALL THE TROOPS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON |