Job, Chapter 36

A little longer suffer me, while I
Proceed in this Divine Apology:
And from a far-remov'd Originall
His Judgements vindicate, who made us all.
No Fucus, nor vaine supplement of Art,
Shall falsifie the Language of my Heart.
He who is perfect, and abhors untruth,
With heavenly Influence inspires my youth.
For the Omnipotent is onely wise:
Nor will the great in Power the weake despise.
His Hands the poore from violence defend;
While Sin-defiled Soules to Hell descend:
Beholds the just, with Eyes that ever wake:
With Princes ranck't, whose thrones no Tempests shake.
Or if their vices cast them to the ground,
If in the fetters of affliction bound:
He to their trembling Consciences displayes
Their former lives, and errours of their wayes.
Then opens wide the porches of their eares;
And their long vailed eyes from darknesse cleares:
That they themselves may see, instructions heare,
Returne from Sin, and their Creator feare.
They shall their happy Dayes in pleasure spend:
And full of yeares in peace their progresse end.
But if they disobey; the Sword shall shed
Their guilty blood, and mix them with the Dead.
For the Deluder hastens his owne fall:
Nor will in trouble on the Almightie call;
Who on the Beds of sinne supinely lye;
They in the Summer of their age shall die.
God will the penitent to Grace restore:
Taught by affliction to offend no more.
So from these fearefull straights would thee have led,
Inlarg'd thy passage, and with marrow fed:
But thou, through wicked Counsels, hast rebell'd;
And therefore justly by his Judgements held.
O feare his wrath! should'st thou be swept away;
Not Mines of Treasure could thy Ransome pay.
Cares he for wealth? Though Gold on Earth command;
No Gold, or force, can free thee from his hand.
Let not thy desperat soule desire that Night,
Which from the living takes the last of Light:
Nor by the guide of sorrow blindly erre;
And Death before due Chastisements preferre.
Lo! he his truth exalts: who so compleat.
As he in Power! whose Knowledge is so great!
Who can to him prescribe a Path? or say,
Thy Judgements from the tract of Justice stray?
O rather praise the workes his hands have wrought;
By all beheld: with Admiration fraught.
His Glory but in part to man appeares:
Who knowes him, or the number of his yeares?
He the congealed vapors melts againe;
Extenuated into drops of Raine:
Which on the thirstie Earth in showers distill;
And all that life possesse with plenty fill.
Who can the extension of his Clouds explore?
Or tell how they in their collisions roare?
Guilt with the flashes of their horrid light:
Yet darken all below with their owne Night.
Judgement and bountie each from hence proceeds;
With these his Creatures punisheth and feeds:
With these the Beautie of the Day immures;
And all the Ornaments of Heaven obscures:
Forthwith aeriall Tumults wound the Eare;
Whose heat and cold the Clouds asunder teare.