quote · Legacy record

Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart Is truly acquainted with the secret smart Of past offences, hates the bosom sin The most, which most the soul took pleasure in; No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented Can lurk unseen, and seen, none unlamented; The troubled soul’s amazed with dire aspects Of lesser sins committed, and detects The wounded conscience; it cries amain For mercy—mercy; cries, and cries again. It sadly grieves, and soberly laments, It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents. Aye, this is incense whose accepted savour Mounts up the heavenly throne, and findeth favour: Aye, this it is whose valour never fails— With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails: Aye, this it is that pierces heaven above, Never returning home, (like Noah’s dove,) But brings an olive leaf, or some increase, That works salvation and eternal peace.

Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart Is truly acquainted with the secret smart Of past offences, hates the bosom sin The most, which most the soul took pleasure in; No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented Can lurk unseen, and seen, none unlamented; The troubled soul’s amazed with dire aspects Of lesser sins committed, and detects The wounded conscience; it cries amain For mercy—mercy; cries, and cries again. It sadly grieves, and soberly laments, It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents. Aye, this is incense whose accepted savour Mounts up the heavenly throne, and findeth favour: Aye, this it is whose valour never fails— With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails: Aye, this it is that pierces heaven above, Never returning home, (like Noah’s dove,) But brings an olive leaf, or some increase, That works salvation and eternal peace.

Approximate author period: c. 1618 AD · renaissance