Serve not to quench, but to advance the crime.
My blessed Saviour! unto thee I fly
For help against this homebred tyranny.
Thou canst true sorrows in my soul imprint,
And draw contrition from a breast of flint.
Thou canst reverse this labyrinth of sin,
My wild affects and actions wander in.
O guide my faith! and, by thy grace's clew,
40Teach me to hunt that kingdom at the view
Where true joys reign, which like their day shall last;