Thy weeping thou shalt ne'er give o'er;
I sin against thee more and more,
And never will from sin be free
Till thou forgive and come to me,
What transgressions I commit
Are for thy transgressions fit,--
They thy harlots, thou their slave;
And my bed becomes their grave.
Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
Hath bereaved of their life:
Their marble tombs I built, with tears
And with cold and shadowy fears.
Seven more loves weep hight and day
Round the tombs where my loves lay,
And seven more loves attend at night
Arotmd my couch with torches bright.
And seven more loves in my bed
Crown with vine my mournful bead;
Pitying and forgiving all
Thy transgressions, great and small
When wilt thou return, and view
My loves, and them in life renew
When wilt thou return and live
When wilt thou pity as I forgive
Throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me.
As our dear Redeemer said:
� This the wine, and this the bread.'
D,gitized by GOOcIc;
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SELECTIONS FROM BLAKE'S WRITINGS.