That Christ Suffered In His Soule Poem by Henry Arthington

If Saloman the wisest King,
That euer raigned on this earth,
Could not describe the fearefull sting,
Of wounded conscience during breath.
No mortall wight can then expresse,
Of Christ his soule the pensiuenesse.

Some sinne we see doth presse mans hart,
So very sore each day by day,
As causeth comfort to depart,
And sorrow vexe them euery way.
No mortall wight, &c.

If wounded conscience for one sinne,
Do bring some men to wofull thrall,
What extreame torments was Christ in,
Who bore that burden for vs all.
No mortall wight, &c.

We all confesse, (in whom is grace)
Our sinfull soules, (by Gods iust doome)
Deserue with Deuils to haue a place,
In euerlasting woes to come.
No mortall wight can then expresse,
Of Christ his soule the pensiuenesse.

Sith then, our Soules do farre exceed,
The bodies constitution,
There sinne, the greater paine must breed,
In horrible confusion.
No mortall wight, &c.

Gods Iustice then must needs impose,
Most extreame paine, on Christ his Sonne,
Sith, he would answer for all those,
That rest on his compassion.
No mortall wight, &c.

How great those torments in Christes soule,
Were felt of him, doth well appeare,
In that his spirit they did controule,
To vtter words, (as seem'd of feare.)
No mortall wight, &c.

What was the cause that made Christ say,
(My soule is heauy vnto Death,)
And for to sweat (as he did pray)
That drops like bloud fell downe to th'earth:
No mortall wight, &c.

Yea, when his Father would not heare,
What made him then so loud to cry,
(My God, my God, O Father deere)
Why hast thou thus forsaken me.
No mortall wight, &c.

It was not paine of body then,
That made Christ Iesus thus complaine,
But wrath of God, for sinnes of men,
Which he in soule did then sustaine.
No mortall wight, &c.

Oh? Who will take delight to sinne,
In soule or body night or day,
Sith our sins past, on Christ did bring,
So extreame torments euery way:
No mortall wight, that can expresse,
Of Christ his soule the pensiuenesse.