[The Only Ill]
I
Sin!
O only fatal woe,
That makes me sad and mourning go!
That all my joys dost spoil,
His Kingdom and my Soul defile!
I never can agree
With Thee.
II
Thou!
Only Thou! O Thou alone,
And my obdurate Heart of Stone,
The poison and the foes
Or my enjoyments and repose,
The only bitter ill:
Dost kill!
III
Oh!
I cannot meet with thee,
Nor once approach thy memory,
But all my joys are dead,
And all my sacred treasures fled,
As if I now did dwell
In Hell.
IV
Lord!
O hear how short I breathe!
See how I tremble here beneath
A sin! its ugly face
More terror than its dwelling-place
Contains, (O dreadful sin)
Within!