But at the last the Lord arose,
Environed with angels bright,
And to the wife in haste he goes,
Desir'd her to pass out of sight,
O Lord, quoth she, cause do me right,
But not according to my sin,
Have you not promis'd day and night
When sinners knock to let them in?
He said, thou wrests the scripture wrong,
The night is come, thou spent'st the day,
In whoredom thou hast lived long,
And to repent thou didst delay.
Still my commandments thou abus'd
And vice committed busily;
Since now my mercy thou resus'd,
Go down to hell eternally.
O Lord, my soul doth testify
That I have spent my life in vain,
And made a wandering sheep of me,
And bring me to thy flock again.
Think'st thou there is no court to crave
Of all thise gifts in thee was planted,
I gave thee beauty bove the lave,
A pregnant wit thou never wanted.
Master, quoth she, it must be granted,
My sins are great—grant me contrition,
The forlorn son when he repented,
Obtain'd his father's full remission.
I spar'd my judgments many times,
And spiritual pastors did thee send,
But thou renew'd thy former crimes,
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