Of all kinds a single pair,
And the members safely there
Of his house he doth embark,
Then at once he shuts the ark;
Everything therein has pass'd,
There he keeps them safe and fast.
O'er the mountain's topmost peak
Now the raging waters break.
Till full twenty days are o'er,
'Midst the elemental roar,
Up and down the ark forlorn,
Like some evil thing is borne:
O what grief it is to see
Swimming on the enormous sea
Human corses pale and white,
More, alas! than I can write:
O what grief, what grief profound,
But to think the world is drown'd:
True a scanty few are left,
All are not of life bereft,
So that, when the Lord ordain,
They may procreate again,
In a world entirely new,
Better people and more true,
To their Maker who shall bow;
And I humbly beg you now,
Ye in modern times who wend,
That your lives ye do amend;
For no wat'ry punishment,
But a heavier shall be sent;
For the blessed saints pretend
That the latter world shall end
To tremendous fire a prey,
And to ashes sink away.
To the Ark I now go back,
Which pursues its dreary track,
Lost and 'wilder'd till the Lord
In his mercy rest accord.
Early of a morning tide
They unclosed a window wide,
Heaven's beacon to descry,
And a gentle dove let fly,
Of the world to seek some trace,
And in two short hours' space
It returns with eyes that glow,
In its beak an olive bough.
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