17
Who shall pray for thy transgression?
Who for thee make intercession?
In the last and dreadful session
Who shall be thy refuge tower?
Peaceful angels round thee soaring,
As 'tis written; tho' deploring,
Yet acknowledge all adoring
That the Judge's doom is just.
And what harder yet appeareth,
God's creation all upreareth
And with wrath redoubled teareth
Wretched sinner's conscience curst.
Conscience bearing attestation
To her own prevarication,
Can in heaven's condemnation
Nought but even justice find.
Then such forms of wrath address her,
And with pains so sore distress her,
That the soul, such griefs oppress her,
Maddens into fury blind.
By the blessed reprobated,
And to hopeless sorrow fated,
Ruin'd, blighted, desolated,
Down she sinks for ever lost,
