Sate thy revenge, for this thy glory cries,
Scorn thou the tears which overflow mine eyes,
Launch lightnings, ’tis high time, I war invoke,
And, doomed, I worship, sinking in the flood;
Yet on what spot shall fall thy thunderstroke,
Not wholly covered with my Saviour’s blood?
Transcriber’s Notes
- Copyright information preserved from the original printed edition; this is public domain in the country of publication.
- Based on scans generously made available by the Internet Archive, http://archive.org/breakingcruciblalexgoog
- The cover to the electronic edition is original, provided for unrestricted use with this eBook.