Ix

While we contemplate their Distresses, how Blind Wretches, they in bondage bow, And tear and wound themselves, and vex and groan, And chafe and fret so near His Throne know not what they ail, but lye Tormented in their Misery, (Like Mad-men that are blind) In works of darkness nigh such full Delight: That they might find and see the sight,