A Song of Praise for the Patience of God

ALmighty God, how hast thou born
Wrongs not to be exprest;
Daring Rebellion, Injur'd Love,
Light quenched in my Breast!
Man would be God, and down he fell,
To teach him better Skill;
Yet he lifts up his bruised Bones
Against his Maker still.

Lord, what a Monster is base Man,
Thus given to Rebel!
O that thou dost not cleave the Earth,
And send him quick to Hell!
His Sins for Wages loudly Cry,
Justice with dreadful sound
Cries too, Cut down this fruitless Tree,
Why cumbers it the Ground?

But God waves his Advantages
Of Right and Vengeance too,
And by his single Patience,
Doth daring Man out-do:
The Creature doth disdain his God,
By whom he is Maintain'd;
Yet God Maintains this Rebel-worm,
By whom he is disdain'd.

Fool, ask not where th'Almighty is,
All Glory to Him give;
Is not his Power fully prov'd,
In suffring Thee to Live?
Was he not God, he could not bear,
Such Weights as on him lie;
Weak things are quickly set on Fire,
And to their Weapons flie.

Why should not Patience make me sing,
When Hell would make me roar?
Lord, let thy Patience end in Love,
I'll sing for evermore.