XII.
〈♫〉〈♫〉 THy mercies Lord, (hence in displeasure fled) On me and my torn Kingdoms I implore; Whose losse we both too justly merited, But ne∣ver can deserve thou shouldst restore. Thou seest the cruelty that Christians use, In the false colours
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〈♫〉〈♫〉 THy mercies Lord, (hence in displeasure fled) On me and my torn Kingdoms I implore; Whose losse we both too justly merited, But ne∣ver can deserve thou shouldst restore. Thou seest the cruelty that Christians use, In the false colours
〈♫〉〈♫〉 of Religion dy'd. As if the names of Christians they should lose, Unless they one another cru∣cify'd. Since we thy Truth and Charity despis'd. Error and Hatred now their room possess, My God, O pardon those thou hast chastis'd. Our wounds with penitential balme redresse: Make not our sufferings less in thy esteeme, and to our Conscience let our sinns apPear, As they i'th'
〈♫〉〈♫〉 mirror of thy judgements seem, Which to small crimes are never so severe.