Then, let the price be what it may,
Though poor, I am prepar'd to pay:
Come shame, come sorrow; spite of tears,
Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;
One soul, at last, shall not repine,
To give you room, come, reign in mine!
DIVINE JUSTICE AMIABLE.
Vol. 2, Cantique 119.
THOU hast no lightnings, O! thou Just!
Or I their force should know;
And if thou strike me into dust,
My soul approves the blow.
The heart, that values less its ease,
Than it adores thy ways;
In thine avenging anger, sees
A subject of its praise.
Pleas'd, I could lie conceal'd, and lost
In shades of central night;
Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st,
But lest I grieve thy sight.
Smite me, O! thou, whom I provoke!
And I will love thee still:
The well-deserv'd, and righteous stroke,
Shall please me, though it kill.
Am I not worthy, to sustain
The worst thou canst devise;
