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.