An Alarm to Unconverted Sinners

And they are as mighty, as they be many. The sands are many, but then they are not great: the mountains great but then they are not many. But woe is me, my sins are as many ⟨p. 180⟩as the sands, and as mighty as the Mountains. Their weight is greater than their number. It were better, that the Rocks, and the mountains should fall upon me, than the crushing and unsupportable load of my own sins. Lord, I am heavy laden: let mercy help, or I am gone. Unload me of this heavy guilt, this sinking load, or I am crushed without hope, and must be pressed down to Hell. If my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my sins laid in the balances together, they would be heavier than the sand of the Sea, therefore my words are swallowed up: they would weigh down all the rocks, and the hills, and turn the balance against all the Isles of the Earth. O Lord, thou knowest my manifold transgressions, and my mighty sins.

And they are as mighty, as they be many. The sands are many, but then they are not great: the mountains great but then they are not many. But wo is me, my sins are as many ⟨p. 180⟩as the sands, and as mighty as the Mountains. Their weight is greater than their number. It were better, that the Rocks, and the mountains should fall upon me, than the crushing and unsupportable load of my own sins. Lord, I am heavy laden: let mercy help, or I am gone. Unload me of this heavy guilt, this sinking load, or I am crushed without hope, and must be pressed down to Hell. If my grief were thorowly weighed, and my sins laid in the ballances together, they would be heavier than the sand of the Sea, therefore my words are swallowed up: they would weigh down all the rocks, and the hills, and turn the ballance against all the Isles of the Earth. O Lord, thou knowest my manifold transgressions, and my mighty sins.

Ah my soul! Alas my Glory! Whither art thou humbled! Once the Glory of the creation, and the Image of God: now, a lump of filthiness, a Coffin of rottenness, replenished with stench and loathsomeness. Oh what work hath sin made with thee! Thou shalt be termed Forsaken, and all the rooms of thy faculties Desolate, and the name that thou shalt be called by is Ichabod, or Where is the Glory? How art thou come down mightily! My beauty is turned into deformity, and my Glory into shame. Lord, what a loathsome Leper am I! The ulcerous bodies of Job or Lazarus were not more offensive to the eyes and nostrils of men, than I must needs be to the most holy God, whose eyes cannot behold iniquity.