Divine meditations upon several subjects whereunto is annexed Gods love and man's unworthiness, with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles.
About this Item
- Title
- Divine meditations upon several subjects whereunto is annexed Gods love and man's unworthiness, with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles.
- Author
- Quarles, John, 1624-1665.
- Publication
- London :: Printed by T.J. for Peter Parker,
- 1671.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- Religious poetry.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A56850.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Divine meditations upon several subjects whereunto is annexed Gods love and man's unworthiness, with several divine ejaculations / written by John Quarles." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A56850.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 14, 2025.
Pages
Page 39
That's quadrupl'd with grief; Oh deign to look
Upon the lines of my all-blotted book:
Although I'm full of most detested spots,
Yet Lord, I know that thou canst read my blots;
Oh read them then, and let thy mercies run
With thy progressive eye; I am undone,
If not forgiven; Lord I thee implore
To shew some mercy to me, thou hast store,
Decipher all my sins, and let them not
Bear record in thy Rouls, but rest forgot;
Revoke this Act of death, that I may sing
Th' admired mercies of so blest a King.
Oh lift me up, that now am thrown below;
Make not my Soul the Custom-house of woe.
Oh hear these bitter groans that I have spent,
And send some comfort from thy Parliament.