|
|
Lord, with
what care hast Thou begirt us round! Parents first
season us; then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws;
-they send us bound To rules of reason, holy
messengers, Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets
and stratagems to catch us in, Bibles laid open,
millions of surprises, Blessings beforehand, ties of
gratefulness, The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences; Angels
and grace, eternal hopes and fears: Yet all these
fences and their whole array One cunning bosom-sin
blows quite away.
|
|
|