Greate is thy Sin, since Sin is never Small:
     And Monstrous Moles of Sin Call home thy Soule.
About their Mountainous Molehills they do Crawle.
     Play thou (and win) a Game of Whacke-a-Mole.
     Unto the Moles be Deadly as an asp.  
     Beware, take Care, nor Swat the pettish wasp.

The Harebrain'd Sinners Sins to him are toyes;
     Theyre Entertainments, Gambols, Games with Dice.
The Madbrain'd Sinners Sins to him are joyes
     Untill he's made to paye in full their price.
     The Crackbrain'd Sin-addicted Scarab bug
     That liveth but for Sin to Hell is Drug.

From when I wake to when I wincke,
The word of God I'le chew like meate;
I'le give Him ev'rie thought I thincke
From when I wake to when I wincke,
And eate the meate, and drinke the drincke,
And thanke my God for what I eate;
From when I wake to when I wincke
The word of God I'le chew like meate.

Quhat doe yowe call a king that's first and sixt?
Yow call him Gods appointed King; King James;
The King of Ireland, Scotland, and England, mixt;
The King of riuers Shannon, Tay, and Thames.
God saue the King, the faithfull King who claimes
For Christ the King the Ingliche written word
And lifts the name aboue all other names
VVho is the Lord of euery other lord.
The King of kings, the word that's als a sword
Diuiding soule from spirite as flesh from bone,
Hath made himselfe with James of one accord
And plac'd the monarch James upon his throne.
The booke of James by God is avthoriz'd
And hath no neede to euer be reviz'd.

O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dy'd and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be done.

Solemn sweet pipes of de o'gan
     Heav'nly music I've hyead play,
But I'll tell you somefin' truly
     Certain ez is Judgment Day:
Angels present at de service
     Ev'ry Sunday spread dey wings,
Lif' dey hands, an' witness glory
     When Malindy sings.

With coarsest sackecloth cloathe my naked soule;
     Construct for me a throne of ashes blacke;
Place on my lying lipps a liuing coal;
     Cast me asea inside a sackcloth sacke;
I am a rocke of great offence, a rocke
As stonie-hearted as a stvmbling blocke.

Not any man hath greater loue than this,
     That hee should for his friend laye downe his life;
But I betray'd my friend without a kisse
     And stabb'd into his backe a butter knife;
And hee who loues his life his life shall lose,
And I, by loving life, my death did chuse.

Christ on the cross was maximumly heroic:
He was braver than braves that slay goliath foes,
Or warriors facing deadly threats with stoic
And stony faces, standing nose to nose.  
At Golgotha the sin of all the world was laid
On Him who, though despised, was more victorious
Than a general at his own ticker-tape parade,
Thronged by a grateful nation joyous and uproarious.
Had Christ destroyed his enemies with a thought
(An option for Him), He would've suffered a defeat
Since all the lessons the Lord of Glory taught
Would've been dismissed as having been taught by a cheat.
It would've been the easy, cowardly fashion
Of escaping the pain that proved His Godly passion.