The foolish man by flesh and fancy ledd,
His guilty hart with this fond thought hath fed:
There is noe God that raigneth.
And so thereafter he and all his mates
Do workes, which earth corrupt, and Heaven hates:
Not one that good remaineth.
Even God himself sent down his piercing ey;
If of this clayy race he could espy
One, that his wisdome learneth.
And loe, he findes that all a strayeng went:
All plung'd in stincking filth, not one well bent,
Not one that God discerneth.
O maddnes of these folkes, thus loosly ledd!
These caniballs, who, as if they were bread,
Gods people do devower:
Nor ever call on God; but they shall quake
More than they now do bragg, when he shall take
The just into his power.
Indeede the poore, opprest by you, you mock:
Their councells are your common jesting stock:
But God is their recomfort.
Ah, when from Syon shall the Saver come,
That Jacob, freed by thee, may glad become
And Israel full of comfort?