Miscellaneous POEMS, With some Remarks on the Death OF King Charles the II.  
And the Happy SUCCESSION OF King James the II. IN A POEM TO THE Magistracy of ENGLAND.  
By JOHN WHITEHALL.  
— Pictoribus atque Poetis  
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas. Hor.  
London: Printed for T. Salusbury at the Black-Lion-Post-Office between the two Temple-Gates in Fleetstreet, 1685.   

To the HONOURABLE Sir CHRISTOPHER BUCKLE, Knt. One of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace for the County of SUSSEX.  
SIR,  
I Durst not have presumed to have prefixed so great a Name to such mean Poems, had I not well experienced the easiness of Your Nature, and known it a far greater difficulty to me to err, than to You not to forgive. Should I attempt (an impossibility) to write Your Encomiums, I should hazard the second loss of Your Favour, since I am certain that You are so far from courting public Respect and Fame, that Your greatest Ambition is to live and die in silence. But that will not, cannot be, for your Virtues (more powerfully than the Sun) dart their Beams even through the thickest Cloud, and Your very Name is a compendious Chronicle of Honour. There are but few Men who have not their One particular Virtue, but fewer (like You) have All. In One we find a Meek Nature, in Another Valour, in a Third and Fourth Learning and Loyalty; but in You they are all conspicuous: And it were less necessary than difficult to distinguish which Virtue is the most eminent. You need no greater Heralds of Your Glory than these; however You have other Blessings (indeed vast and real Blessings) Your happy Offspring, who honour their Extraction, and are living Monuments of their Religious Parents. How then an You lie hid? You, whom even he late best and greatest Monarch of the Earth, did so far observe, as to point You our to no less a Dignity than the Guardianship of those two dearest Darlings of his Soul, Religion and Peace. Happy King, breast with so tender a Servant; happy Servant, under so gracious a Monarch: A Monarch, whose Graces, as they were still the Praise, Wonder, and Admiration of the general World, so of You in particular. Neither did You less imitate than admire them, and most especially his Mercy; which encourages me to present these Poems to Your Worship, begging both Your Acceptance and Patronage, under which I shall be able to withstand the sharpest Censure of the impartial Critic. How happy should I be, if they (like You) would weigh the disadvantages of my Learning! I cannot (like the Prophet) thrive so well with Pulse and Water, as Princely Poets do with delicious Libraries 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. I neither expect so much, nor wish it. No, my greatest hope is, That You would vouchase me the acceptance of these Trifles, and the utmost extent of my Ambition is to acknowledge myself  
Your Honour's most humble Servant, John Whitehall.   

Miscellaneous Poems.  

To the Honourable Magistracy of England, Short Remarks on the Death of King CHARLES II. and the happy Succession of King JAMES II.  

YE Wise, ye Great, ye Valiant Worthies, Hail!  
Hail to the Gown and Sword!  
True Friends and Servants of our breathless Lord  
Why do ye look so drooping and so pale?  
Why do ye start and tremble so?  
Why do so many doubtful grow?  
What more than what is done could we wish Heavn ' to do?  
Peace to the Sacred Dust.— But wipe off Tears;  
By this Mankind may see,  
Death is impartial, frail Mortality,  
And Monarches have a limit to their Years.   

II.  
Most wondrous was the Nature of his Death,  
And the distinction of his Fate  
Was marvellous and great,  
When he resigned his Breath.  
Returns from Death are denied common men  
But when His summoned Soul was on the wing  
He sojourned back again  
To give us all the blessings of a King:  
Witness, y'Eternal Powers above,  
How tender was this Monarch's Love!  
Who would awaken after his decease,  
Of Immortality himself divest,  
And break his Welcome, his Eternal Rest,  
To bless the wavering Land with happy Peace.   

III.  
Be cheerful then (Great Souls) let only such despair  
Who do the Justice of their Monarch fear;  
Such who can teach Rebellion with a Zeal,  
Who inward motions of Sedition feel,  
Who bless the Halcyon-days of Anarchy,  
Who Plot, (but fruitless their Designs will be)  
Both to confound the King and Empire too,  
And the old Chaos of a Commonwealth renew:  
Let them despond this day to see,  
While Ye from Faction free  
Enjoy your old Pindaric Liberty,  
Whose Honours are engaged thus much to do,  
To guard the King, whose Sacred Life's a Guard to You.   

iv  
In the imagination of the Crowd  
Britain like Daniel's short-lived Leopard fell;  
And 'twould have pleased the Factious Rabble well,  
Had Heaven so much allowed:  
Into a wild Confusion, they  
Would cast the shaken Nation; in a Flood  
Of Royal Blood  
Designed t'have washed the Crown away,  
And have brought Bondage in for Liberty,  
Might such things heensed be,  
Might Art so much on Nature win,  
To extinguish fixed Stars, or to keep Meteors in:   

V.  
But lo! our Monarch's care,  
Who would not see the Empire ravished, and  
By our forced Mother stand,  
As though he unconcerned were:  
But when with an extreme immoderate heat  
He found the frantic world begin to burn & sweat,  
YOU, ye Noble Souls, he chose,  
Whose Loyalty should cancel those  
Who a Friends name did bear,  
Yet basely did design to play the Ravisher.   

VI  
He did Himself ( all was to Confusion hurled)  
From Faction the Augaean Stables clear;  
While He the Crown did wear  
He calmed the stormy world.  
Seditious Waves did cease to roar;  
fanatics and his Passions he had tamed so well,  
'Twas difficult for either to Rebel:  
His Justice conquered many, but his Mercy more.   

VII.  
He sleeps: however balance Grief with Joy,  
For Providence designs not to destroy,  
But the succeeding Prophet Heaven will  
With the dead Prophet's Spirit doubled fill,  
And here's Elisha for Elijah still.  
How great the Wound? how healing was the Balm?  
How fierce the Storm? how timely was the calm?  
What two extremes of Joy and Grief we find?  
As this weighs down, so that supports Mankind.   

VIII.  
With this well seasoned Act of Providence  
'Tis easy to dispense,  
Britain may bear it with an even sense.  
Propitious Heaven hath been wondrous kind,  
And hath great Blessings for the Land designed,  
To take the best of Kings, & leave the best behind.  
Oh happy, mourning Isle,  
Which hast an equal cause to weep and smile,  
Had not this humbling grief been here allowed,  
Excess of Joy would have made Britain proud,  
But it was mingled well,  
How great a Monarch rose? how great a Monarch fell?   

IX.  
Happy Succession! He who th' Crown doth wear  
Is more than barely of the Kingdom's Heir,  
His Brother's Majesties were all his due,  
Honours to his vast Soul no limits are,  
He will Inherit all his Virtues too.  
Peace and Religion Darlings of the Dead,  
His dearest best twin Favourites shall find  
This Monarch (like his Promise) merciful and kind,  
By him they'll be (as his own Off spring) nourished.  
This fresh Addition to our Triumph brings,  
And makes me here engage Whitehall shall be the KING'S.    

FAITH.  

I.  
WHat is this Faith, of which so little can  
Work Miracles beyond the Faith of Man?  
Which can destroy and save;  
Substance of things we hope to have:  
By which strong Devils have ejected been  
The evidence of things unseen  
Which seems itself to be  
Almighty as the Deity:  
By which we know, our Maker's word gave birth  
Both to the heavens, the Seas and Earth,  
His Fiat brought this Fabric forth.   

II.  
It is the Soul and Wings of Prayer,  
Which makes it swift as a Post Angel fly  
The Ambassage to bear,  
It pierces the Almighty's Ear,  
And allows God no power to deny.  
Like Jacob it will plead, and not in vain,  
But wrestle till it doth the Blessing gain,  
While Saul (a Stranger unto it)  
Complains, and prays, and finds no benefit;  
His heavy Prayer could not Heaven find;  
Alas! he left his Guide, his Faith behind.   

III.  
With It what Miracles did Moses do?  
It wonderfully did the Seas divide,  
And fabricated Waves on either side,  
While Israel passed through.  
It smote the Crystal Flood,  
And changed the Waters into Blood.  
It did the Plagues on Egypt bring:  
It smote the barren Rock, & made the Water's spring:  
It did for Joshua like a Champion fight,  
And Potent Kings were conquered by't.  
What tho' Goliath did the Host defy?  
Defiance was no Victory.  
He wanted Faith, but well-armed David knew  
The naked Giant could but little do.   

V  
Through It the halfdead Sarah did Conceive,  
She did th'Almighty Promiser believe;  
By It her barren Womb made fruitful, bears  
A mighty Harvest in the Winter of her Years.  
It cooled the Furnace, and the wrathful fire  
From Azarias did retire;  
Though seven times hotter it had heated been,  
It was extinguished quite by powerful Faith within:  
The lambent flames about did harmless glide,  
Though violent they did appear,  
(As those which did th'Almighty hide,  
When in the Flaming-Bush he did to Moses come,)  
Yet innocent they were,  
They had no power to consume;  
For why! the Mighty Angel Faith was there.   

V  
It did the Lion's wrath command,  
The half-starved Beast aloof did stand:  
It stood amazed,  
And on the Prophet gazed,  
Bound at a distance by Faith's secret hand.  
The raging Seas are hushed by it,  
The storming Winds submit,  
Their fury they  
Aside do lay,  
The angry Billows sleep,  
And the fierce Waves are buried in the Deep;  
Nature itself this Monarch doth obey;  
He stopped the Sun in'ts full career,  
Charged it on Gibeon to stay,  
His words were Chains, and bound it there,  
It could not tow'ds the West advance;  
So great's his Power every where,  
His tuneful Voice will make the gouty Mountains dance.   

VI  
To conquering Death all flesh must tribute pay,  
Yet Death itself this Monarch doth obey,  
The Manacles of Tyrant Fate he breaks:  
Death strives in vain  
The captived Body to retain;  
If He the Surge speaks,  
The Dead a Strength and Liberty shall have  
To burst the Fetters of the Grave.  
By this was Enoch unto Heaven born,  
He the old Road of dull Mortality did scorn;  
Though difficult the Voyage seemed to be,  
Yet Faithful He  
The Straits and Land of Death did never see.  
Elijah in this fiery Coach did ride,  
His Faith the unattempted Whirlwind tried;  
He mounted, and through tractless Air did fly,  
Travelling upwards to Eternity.    

PATIENCE.  

I.  
HOw fretful is Mankind, and vain!  
He'll bay at Heaven, and complain,  
And grumble for fair Wether, or for Rain.  
Alas! he is insensible and blind,  
And cannot view the good which Providence designed:  
His life's uneasy, and with murmurings filled,  
He is with Summer scorched, and with cold Winter  
He cannot live where crosses are:  
Should he with cursing Shimei be tried,  
He neither could the Language bear,  
Nor th' ignominious reproachful Stones abide.   

II.  
Man sees not as his Maker sees,  
But wrangles still with Providence,  
And beareth no affliction with an even sense;  
But with impatience doth corrupt his ease;  
'Tis difficult his squeamish Soul to please;  
To bear th'afflicting Rod he doth not know;  
Alas! he'll either stupid grow,  
Or with despairing die;  
Between th' Extremes he cannot fly;  
He'll either madly soar too high,  
Or desperately plunge his laden Soul too low.   

III.  
But Patience doth enthroned in Ashes sit;  
Her Substance wasted, Children dead,  
Friendship retired, and Pity fled,  
Yet she the Potsheard takes, and scrapes her Biles with it.  
The Pomp of Death, and Funeral Obsequies,  
Do not her steadfast heart surprise:  
Though with increasing pain she's proved,  
Her Anchor's fixed, she will not now be moved:  
In vain the Devil doth the storm foment,  
In vain fresh Legions of Plagues are sent,  
In vain they all temptations try,  
She will not curse her God and die.   

iv  
She knows that Heaven relieving succours hath,  
She knows its Mercy's sure,  
'Tis infinite, and will endure,  
She knows, and pleads with mighty Faith;  
She waits, and strives with God, yet is not bold,  
Like the impatient sullen Israelites of old.  
The frailty of the flesh she doth expand;  
She weeps, yet sheds no hopeless Tears,  
She sighs till the Almighty hears,  
And is ascertained yet t'enjoy the promised Land.   

V  
Monster Affliction may appear  
In any shape, yet not astonish her.  
So quick and piercing is her Eye,  
In Iron Bonds she can behold  
More Honour than in Chains of Gold,  
And in a Dungeon can a glorious Crown descry:  
Let Storms roar loud, and Tempests roll,  
Let battering Waves against her fly,  
They shall not move her well-fixed Soul,  
They cannot do the Vessel wrong;  
Her Faith hath made her wondrous strong,  
And Lord thy will be done, is still her strengthing Song.   

VI  
Led her to Flames, and show her Martyrdom,  
She will no scruples make,  
Nor tremble like the Fire to which she's come,  
But cast a lovely smile, and kiss the welcome Stake.  
What values she  
Which road she sojourn to Eternity?  
She with submission lives, and with submission dies  
Begging th'acceptance of herself, the Sacrifice,  
And shaking off Mortality,  
Like th'Angel which to Manoah came  
Ascends to Heaven in a Coach of Flame.    

AMBITION.  

I.  
WHat is it that vain man affects to be?  
Of nothing he was made, yet he  
Swells big to reach the title of Deity.  
He will forbidden methods try:  
Through unattempted ways he'll fly:  
His restless Soul aims still to rise up higher,  
He will above Mortality aspire,  
Let lose the Reigns, and lash the Horses on,  
Artless he'll drive the Chariot of the Sun,  
Though half the World with his Ambitious self expire.   

II.  
This Evil's Epidemical;  
I'th' State Ecclesiastical  
Most covet Dignity,  
Inferior Priests would Bishops be;  
The Countrey-Curate in the Pulpit loud  
Preaches cramp words to the illiterate Crowd,  
Judges his Doctrine admirable, and grows proud,  
Gins so small a Benefice to scorn,  
And thinks he is to greater Honours born;  
Throws by his Linsey-woolsey Gown,  
One of prodigious Parts he's grown,  
And aims at least to be  
Chaplain in Ordinary  
Unto his Majesty;  
He thinks all Arts and Languages his own.  
Thus he forgets how small he was at first,  
And swells, like Aesop's Frog, until he burst.   

III.  
Thus watchful Students do embrace  
All Arts and Sciences,  
They Nature in her dark recesses trace,  
Till they're familiar with her Mysteries:  
From the Alphabet to Lily they ascend,  
Nor will they with great Aristotle end:  
They will a further progress go,  
Ambitious still to double what they know,  
Till they're acquainted with the various worlds above,  
Know how the great and lesser Lights do move,  
Till they're so intimate with every Star,  
That each one hath its name particular,  
Till mighty Plutarch's Knowledge they contemn,  
And the wise Stagyrite's an Ass compared to Them.   

iv  
The common Soldier would Lieutenant be,  
Then Captain, and would yet rise higher,  
And to the General's Dignity  
Is eager to aspire;  
From thence, of greater Honours he takes view,  
And will the Title of a Crown pursue;  
He'll plead the merit of his Sword in War,  
His Wounds, and loss of Blood,  
And his ambitious thoughts so headstrong are,  
They will not be withstood;  
He will the Honours of a Monarch bear,  
Nor rests his boundless Spirit there,  
Still Crown to Crown, like Mountains, he will add,  
One Kingdom on another cast,  
Have that amotion which th'old Giant's had,  
And will besiege the Mansions of the Gods at last.  
How foolish was Empedocles, and desperate!  
Who unastonished at the sight of Fate,  
Left the old common Road,  
Travelled to Death through Flames which never had been trod,  
And damned himself with hopes to be esteemed a God.   

V  
What are these Worlds of Honour worth,  
That we are all thus eager to come forth?  
Pharez and Zarah-like, still striving for the Birth?  
From Earth's maternal Tomb,  
To the Earth's fruitful Womb,  
Man doth return, and undistinguished lies,  
Beggars and Kings, the Foolish and the Wise,  
Valiant and Weak, the Great and Small,  
By the impartial hand of Death together fall:  
And yet man vainly tries  
To be exceeding Valiant or Great,  
Like Adam in his wisest, happiest state,  
Serpent Ambition tempts him to be still more wise  
Thus fell the mighty Lucifer of old,  
To equal his Greator he was bold;  
Ambition first did prompt him to Rebel,  
Which pleased the Spirit so well,  
That since from Heaven he fell,  
He triumphs to be known the greatest One in Hell.    

To the University of Oxford.  

I.  
HAil!  
All Hail?  
Masters of Sacred Sciences,  
Fathers of Arts and Languages,  
Ye who both Men and Things do know;  
've traced old coy Nature so,  
That y'are acquainted with her Mysteries,  
Both things above, and things below,  
From th'x Womb of your most fertile brain  
(With half a Parent's pain)  
Noble Offsprings do proceed,  
In which the Mother's Beauty we may read;  
Each fruitful day produces some great Birth,  
Your Fiat makes new Worlds of Learning to jump forth.   

II.  
Thrice have I viewed, thrice wished to sojourn in this Land,  
In which doth stand  
The unforbidden Tree of Knowledge; Thrice  
Have begged to taste the fruit of this sweet Paradise,  
Which (tho' by Nature Man imperfect be,  
Yet) by a mystic Chemistry  
Improves the Soul with so much odds,  
That Mortals seem Immortal as the Gods.  
O that I might possess  
So great an happiness!  
So faithfully I love, might I enjoy the state,  
I could thrice Jacob's time for such a Rachel wait.   

III.  
Your Sciences I at a distance view,  
I hear of Arts and I believe them true,  
But what they are I never knew:  
Thus of the Deity the Heathens have  
Some glimpse, but yet not know enough to save  
Philosophy, Astrology,  
Divinity, and Chemistry,  
Are glorious things, but all unknown to me.  
Thus from afar  
We view the Sun, the Moon, and Star,  
That they are shining Bodies we discern,  
But cannot their true Magnitude nor Lustre learn.   

iv  
I sue, and with no common Zeal I sue,  
To gather Learning's Manna here with You:  
O that I could but write  
Sweet as the Mantuan Swan, or mighty Stagyrite!  
My labouring Muse  
Should the full strength of every sinew use;  
I would not strive in vain,  
But wrestle till I did the Blessing gain;  
A powerful Verse might favour find,  
And importunity might make some Angel kind.   

II.  
With vain ambition round the World I roll,  
In vain I travel far  
From Pole to Pole,  
To seek where Riches and Preferments are;  
In vain I after Honours go:  
Alas! too well I know,  
Those heavens are shut, there is no entrance there,  
Till I'm a Member made by being baptised here.  
If in this Styx I might but dipped be,  
I should from dangerous Ignorance be free,  
And share of Immortality:  
But now the World refuses me, among the Crowd  
I cannot be allowed,  
Like Metal when the Coin is base,  
They will not let me pass.  
Had I your Stamp, might I be Capped & Gowned,  
I then might pass the Universe around.    

The Soul, to a good Conscience.  

I.  
Welcome! thrice welcome, Sacred Guest!  
Thou Peace of Life, thou Balm of Death,  
Thou Harbinger of an Eternal Rest,  
How beauteous is thy Face! how fragrant is thy Breath!  
Gabriel which to Mary did appear  
The tidings of Eternal Peace did bring;  
So Thou All hail! All hail! dost sing,  
And fill'st me with a Joy, but not a Fear.  
Thus Gideon, Peter, Paul,  
Conversed with Spirits Angelical;  
Yet Thou to me  
Dost seem to be  
The lovli'st Cherub of them all.   

II.  
Continue here this night, and be my Guest,  
Thou shalt not now departed,  
Take up thy Lodging in my humble heart,  
Like Lot I will prepare my Feast,  
I will my Guardian-Angel feed  
With the unleavened Bread  
Of Virtue and of Holiness,  
And not the Leaven of the Pharisees:  
Oh tarry then this tedious Night,  
Until the Dawn of long Eternity!  
Thou only canst me free  
From the oppressing Sodomite,  
And in the last Eternal Day,  
When sinful Sodom's ready to expire,  
'Tis only Thou canst lead me safe away,  
From incensed Heavens wrath, and the impartial Fire:   

III.  
Oh bold and noble Champion! who  
Joined to thy Sister Faith such Miracles canst do,  
Who canst undaunted unto Prisons come,  
Canst view the Flames, and smile on Martyrdom,  
Who canst, like Paul, unconquered bear  
Insulting Fates worst Tyranny,  
And dost enjoy the greatest Liberty  
Then when the flesh does Fetters wear,  
Who hourly dost thy strength renew,  
And unconcerned dost all commotions view:  
The Earthquake might  
The unconverted Jailer much affright,  
But thou art steadfast, fixed, and not astonished by't.   

iv  
Thy flaming Sword thou brandisnest about,  
To keep Pollution out;  
Th'incestuous Strumpet could not move  
Thee with illicensed Love;  
The heart of Joseph thou didst guard,  
And the Adultress thence was barred,  
Oh beauteous Susanna! much in vain  
The lustful Elders strove to gain  
A conquest o'er thy Modesty and Fame,  
To prostitute thy Honour and thy Name;  
Tho' Malice did its fruitless self dilate  
Thou didst not tremble at the menaces of Fate;  
If Daniel had not risen there  
To make thy Innocence appear,  
With Shadrach thou wouldst choose in flames t'ave been,  
Rather than slain thy soul with the detested sin,  
With welcome Death thou wouldst not have been grieved,  
But triumphed to have seen the Debauchees deceived.   

V  
The mighty Thunders speak aloud,  
And on the Mount descends a thick dark Cloud;  
The sounding Trumpets rend the Sky,  
And pointed Lightnings round the World do fly;  
Sinai smokes, for God is there,  
The trembling Mountains do their Monarch own and fear.  
Oh then! Oh who  
Before Him dares appear!  
Good conscience thou like Moses this canst do,  
Before th'Almighty thou canst go;  
Thou canst the holy Mount ascend,  
Talk face to face with God, as with thy Friend,  
While viler Souls astonished stand below,  
They see the Lightning, and hear Thunder roar,  
Yet for the Living God, the Golden Calf adore.    

The Soul, to a bad Conscience.  

WHence art thou, thou eternal Pain,  
Thou restless Plague, thou stalking Shade,  
Terrible Shadow, by Reflection made,  
I charge thee hence again:  
Why dost thou pinch, and rack, and lash me so?  
I do conjure thee let me go;  
I'll set myself from all thy tortures free,  
Thou fancied Devil I will stifle thee,  
And triumph in my liberty;  
I am not into such a weakness brought,  
But I am able sure to grapple with a thought.   

II.  
In Bacchanalean Feasts I'll drown thy Rage,  
The Royal Courts thy fury may assuage,  
The Sports and Sweets of Love  
May thee remove;  
If not, I'll travel far  
Into some Land beyond thy vast extent,  
And tell the deceived World I'm innocent;  
If thou pursue me there, and break my Peace,  
If there thy rage increase,  
Like Pharaoh, I will hardened be  
As Plagues augment on me;  
I'll unattempted Evils try,  
Jesuits shall be more Innocent than I,  
I will excel in wickedness, and matchless die.  
I'll cast myself upon sins spacious Main,  
And sail where yet no Nero e'er hath been,  
Into strange worlds of unknown sin,  
And never feel the qualms of Conscience again  
I'll chain thee in some cavern of the Earth,  
And if my wand'ring thoughts should err astray,  
If they meet Heaven or Virtue in the way,  
Do not attempt to enter forth,  
For if thou dost, I'll choke thee in thy birth.   

III.  
Why follows Caesar guilty Brutus still?  
Why dost so oft appear,  
To charge me with a well-remembred ill?  
Thou sinkest there,  
And risest here,  
I fly from thee in vain,  
Who wilt not suffer me one minutes peace to gain;  
With friendly night wrap up that wounded breast,  
Brutus his wound gapes wider than the rest.  
Sink, sink, thou Shade, ten thousand fathom deep,  
Be buried in Eternal Sleep;  
Oh do not still pursue me, restless Ghost!  
Hence thou Tormentor, hence;  
Alas! in thee I've lost.  
The Sacred Peace of Maiden Innocence,  
And here like Cain and Judas I do trembling stand,  
Astonished at the action of my too rash hand.   

iv  
I thought that charming David's tuneful Lyre,  
Touched with his skilful hand,  
Might thee command,  
And urge thy evil Spirit to retire:  
But now (alas!) I see  
How vain all these attempts would be;  
Contagious Wickedness is thy Disease,  
Too long thou hast incensed been  
With loathsome, rank, deformed sin,  
And none but Christ thy Fever can appease.  
I've tasted the forbidden Tree,  
And by the bold presumptuous Vice  
Have made an Hell of Paradise,  
And from thy presence vainly strive to flee,  
And cannot hid my guilty self from God and Thee.  
I'll kneel in Sackcloth, and I'll humbly pray,  
That with the precious Flood  
Of Christ's most meritorious Blood,  
He'll wash my sins away;  
I shall no longer than thy stings abide,  
But them, together with my sins, I'll hid  
In my dear Saviour's wounded Side.    
FINIS.