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Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, ragg'd, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
On his distressed mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus
Halfe of that sacrifice which ransom'd us?
Though these things as I ride be from mine eye,
They'are present yet unto my memorie,
For that lookes towards them; and thou look'st towards me,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upõ the tree;
I turne my back to thee, but to receive
Corrections till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O think mee worth thine anger, punish me,
Burne off my rust, and my deformitie,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou maist know me, and I'll turne my face.
THE LITANIE.
I.
The FATHER.
Father of Heaven, and him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all else, for us
Thou madest and govern'st ever, come
And re-create me, now growne ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by selfe-murder, red.
From this red earth, ô Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new fashioned
I may rise up from death, before I'am dead.

[CW: II.]