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 him self 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 then 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?