Must Ethiopians be imploy'd for you
Greatly rejoice if any good I do
I ask O unbeleiver satan's child
Has not thy saviour been to meek & mild
The auspicious rays that round his head do shine
Do still declare him to be christ divine
Doth not the Omnipotent call him son?
And is well pleas'd with his beloved One
How canst thou thus divide the trinity
What can'st thou take up for to make the three
Tis satan snares a Fluttering in the wind
Whereby he hath ensnar'd thy Foolish mind
God the eternal Orders this to be
Sees thy vain arg'ments to divide the three
Canst thou not see the consequence in store
Begin the Omnipotent to adore
Arise the pinions of Persuasions here
Seek the Eternal while he is so near
At the last day where wilt thou hide thy face
The day approaching is no time for grace
Then wilt thou cry thyself undone and lost
Proclaiming Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Who trod the wine press of Jehovahs wrath
Who taught us prayer and gave us grace and faith
Who but the great and the Supreme who bless'd
Ever and ever in Immortal rest
The meanest prodigal that comes to God
Is not cast off, but brought by Jesus Blood
When to the faithless Jews he oft did cry
One call'd him Teacher some made him a lye
He came to you in mean apparell clad
He came to save you from your sins and had
Far more Compassion than I can express
Pains his companions, and his Friends Distress
Immanuel God with us these pains did bear
Must the Eternal our Petitions hear?
Ah! cruel distiny his life he Laid
Father Forgive them thus the saviour said
They nail'd King Jesus to the cross for us
For our Transgressions he did bear the curse.
May I O Eternal salute aurora to begin thy Praise, shall mortal dust do that which immortals scarcely can comprehend, then O omnipotent I will humbly ask, after imploring thy pardon for this presumption, when shall we approach thy majestys presence crown'd with celestial Dignities When shall we see the resting place of the great Supreme When shall we behold thee. O redeemer in all the respendent Graces of a Suffering God,
yet wise men Sent from the Orient clime
Now led by seraphs to the bless'd abode
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.