How should the sons of Adam’s race be pure before their God? If he contends in righteousness, we sink beneath his rod. 2 If he should mark my words and thoughts with strict enquiring eyes, Could I for one of thousand faults the least excuse devise? 3 Strong is his arm, his heart is wise; who dares with him contend? Or who, that tries th’ unequal strife, shall prosper in the end? 4 He makes the mountains feel his wrath, and their old seats forsake; The trembling earth deserts her place, and all her pillars shake. 5 He bids the sun forbear to rise; th’ obedient sun forbears: His hand with sackcloth spreads the skies, and seals up all the stars. 6 He walks upon the raging sea; flies on the stormy wind: None can explore his wondrous way, or his dark footsteps find.
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