Prison-pietie, or, Meditations divine and moral digested into poetical heads, on mixt and various subjects : whereunto is added a panegyrick to the right reverend, and most nobly descended, Henry Lord Bishop of London / by Samuel Speed ...

¶ On Christ's Death.

MY God, my God, turn not to night my day; Shall Mans black Crimes be Darts my heart to slay? Must my dear blood on sinful dust be spilt To pay his debt, and wash away his guilt? My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Must I come from a Diadem to Death, Leaving my joys, in sorrow spend my breath? Must I, that am coequal with the Father, Be crucifi'd, that man may comfort gather? My God, my God, &c.

I that e're now was cloath'd in state of Glory, Am now in Rags of Flesh to tell my story. I that fill ev'ry place in spight of danger, Yet I, in fear, was cradled in a Manager. My God, my God, &c.

To Egypt I compelled was to fly; I am the Life, yet I my self must die. I am the sole Dictator of the Law, Yet must be subject now, and stand in aw. My God, my God, &c.

'Twas I that both the Earth and Heavens made, But working now at Joseph's homely trade. Children of men, I have ye ost exempted, Can binde the Devils, yet must I be tempted. My God, my God, &c.

I made the World of Nothing, Man of Dust, Yet I have hungred and have been athirst. I am become Life to the Lunatick; If God can die, Nature may well be sick. My God, my God, &c.

Must I, that keep the Keys of Death and Hell, Pay visits now where griefs and terrours dwell? Must Kings be made the subjects of their scorns, And wear, instead of Stars, a Crown of Thorns? My God, my God, &c.

My Senses all extreamly are agriev'd, My eyes beholding whom I have reliev'd, Mine ears with hearing lewd blasphemous Taunts, Instead of Hallelujahs sung by Saints. My God, my God, &c.

Smelling, I finde my nostrils streight grow full O'th' evil scent of some corrupted skull. My Taste is chang'd with Liquor like my Thrall, Sower and bitter, Vinegar and Gall. My God, my God, &c.

My Feeling, with the Spear that pierc'd my side: That man might live, I thus was crucifi'd. At length my Father heard me, bad me die, But nothing fear, sor he himself stood by.