Ah! what's vain man that seems so pure,
As not his spots to spy,
When fairest seraphs can't endure
J EHOVAH 's piercing eye!

He sees his saints not whole upright,
What can in slaves be seen?
How vile's the earth, when in his sight
The heav'ns are but unclean!

Their hosts before the holy thrice,
Do blush and hide their smuts
How odious then is man, whose vice
Like water-daily gluts!