Christ Beats His Drum, But

God Himself Took A Day To Rest In, And A Good Man's Grave Is His Sabbath.

Man Hath Weaved Out A Net, And This Net Throwne Upon The Heavens, And Now They Are His Own.

I Have Done One Braver Thing Than All The Worthies Did, And Yet A Braver Thence Doth Spring, Which Is, To Keep That Hid.

Between These Two, The Denying Of Sins, Which We Have Done, And The Bragging Of Sins, Which We Have Not Done, What A Space, What A Compass Is There, For Millions Of Millions Of Sins!

If Poisonous Minerals, And If That Tree, Whose Fruit Threw Death On Else Immortal Us, If Lecherous Goats, If Serpents Envious Cannot Be Damned; Alas; Why Should I Be?