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15. Now is the crowne falne from our head; and woe
Be unto us, because we'have sinned so.
16. For this our hearts doe languish, and for this
Over our eyes a cloudy dimnesse is.
17. Because mount Sion desolate doth lie,
And foxes there doe goe at libertie:
18. But thou ô Lord art ever, and thy throne
From generation, to generation.
19. Why shouldst thou forget us eternally?
Or leave us thus long in this miserie?
20. Restore us Lord to thee, that so we may
Returne, and as of old, renew our day.
21. For oughtest thou, ô Lord, despise us thus
22. And to be utterly inrag'd at us?
On himselfe.
My Fortune and my choice this custome break,
When we are speechlesse grown, to make stones speak,
Though no stone tel thee what I was, yet thou
In my graves inside seest what thou art now:
Yet thou art not yet so good, till death us lay
To ripe and mellow here, we are stubborne Clay.
Parents make us earth, and soules dignifie
Vs to be glasse; here to grow gold we lie;
Whilst in our soules sinne bred and pamper'd is,
Our soules become wormeaten carkases;
So we our selves miraculously destroy.
Here bodies with lesse miracle enjoy
Such priviledges, enabled here to scale
Heaven, when the Trumpets ayre shall them exhale.

[CW: Heare]