The glorious lover a divine poem upon the adorable mystery of sinners redemption /

Thou canst not hide from me thy curst design, Most horrid hatred is that love of thine. Thou seekest her life, her blood, nought else will do But her most desperate final overthrow. I likewise see how the sad game is laid, How she by treacherous Loves to Sin's betrayed: But I that League resolve to break asunder, Dissolve your Charms, & quickly bring thee under; Although I know thou art a Son of Thunder. I'll spoil all your designs, and make appear That only I that Soul do love most dear. I'll spill my dearest blood upon the Ground, But your Infernal Plots I will confound. I am her friend, and will so faithful prove, That all shall say I'm worthy of her love. My Life is in my hand. I le lay it down Ere she shall miss of the Eternal Crown. Thou damned art, and wouldst (I fully know) Bring her into the same eternal woe: But know, vile Fiend, 'tis more than thou canst do, Unless thou canst this day prevail o'er me, Those dreadful Torments she shall never see.

Thou canst not hide from me thy curst design, Most horrid hatred is that love of thine. Thou seek'st her life, her blood, nought else will do But her most desperate final overthrow. I likewise see how the sad game is laid, How she by treacherous Loves to Sin's betraid: But I that League resolve to break asunder, Dissolve your Charms, & quickly bring thee under; Although I know thou art a Son of Thunder. I'le spoyl all your designs, and make appear That only I that Soul do love most dear. I'le spill my dearest blood upon the Ground, But your Infernal Plots I will confound. I am her friend, and will so faithful prove, That all shall say I'm worthy of her love. My Life is in my hand. I le lay it down E're she shall miss of the Eternal Crown. Thou damned art, and wouldst (I fully know) Bring her into the same eternal wo: But know, vile Fiend, 'tis more than thou canst do, Unless thou can'st this day prevail o're me, Those dreadful Torments she shall never see.

At this Apollyon's parched Lips did quiver, These words, like darts, struck through his heart and liver, He gnawed his very tongue for pain and woe, And stamped, and foamed, and knew not what to do, ⟨p. 39⟩