When with these eyes clos'd now by thee,
But then restor'd,
The great and white throne I shall see
Of my dread Lord:
And lowly kneeling (for the most
Stiff then must kneel)
Shall look on him, at whose high cost
(Unseen) such joys I feel.

What ever arguments, or skill
Wise heads shall use,
Tears onely and my blushes still
I will produce.
And should those speechless beggers fail,
Which oft have won;
Then taught by thee, I will prevail,
And say, Thy will be done!