Great God, thy ways are full of righteousness;
Thy clemency would spare us all; but oh,
I have done so much ill that nothing less
Than death can soothe thy injured justice—No!

My God, the greatness of my wickedness
Leaves only to thy power the choice of woe;
Thy laws are foreign to my happiness;
Thy very grace demands the extremest blow.

Fulfil thy will all glorious and all wise,
Be angry at the tears which blear my eyes;
Strike, thunder; it is time; give thrall for thrall.

Damned, I adore thee.—Mercy hath sufficed.—
If wrath can find a spot, whereon to fall,
Which is not covered with the blood of Christ.
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