Eternity , when I think thee
(Which never any end must have
Nor knewest beginning) and foresee
Hell is designed for sin a grave.

My frighted flesh trembles to dust,
My blood ebbs fearfully away:
Both guilty that they did to lust
And vanity my youth betray.

My eyes which from each beauteous sight
Drew spider-like black venom in,
Close like the Marigold at night,
Oppressed with dew to bathe my sin.

My ears shut up that easy door
Which did proud fallacies admit,
And vow to hear no follies more,
Deaf to the charms of sin and wit.

My hands (which when they touched some fair
Imagined such an excellence
As th' Ermine's skin ungentle were)
Contract themselves and loose all sense.

No sorrow then shall enter in
With pity the great Judge's ears.
This moment's ours. Once dead, his sin
Men cannot expiate with tears.