Paraphrase on Malachy 3. 14.

IN vain ye Murmur, we have serv'd the Lord,
 As vainly listned to his flattering word,
 He has forgot, or spake not as he meant;
 Else why are we thus Idly penitent? 
Ye call the haughty blest, erecting those
 That dare my Judgements impiously oppose,
 And own, nay, almost boast themselves my foes,
 Whose crimes would (were I not a God) command
 The scarlet bolts from my unwilling hand;
 Then they that fear'd my great and awful name,
 The only sew that dar'd oppose the stream,
 Unmov'd against the vulgar torrent stood,
 In spight of numbers resolutely good,
 Not taxing with undecent insolence
 The dark Enigma's of my providence. 
But saw me still illustrious through the same,
 And lov'd and spake, spake often of my name,
 As oft I closely listned, nor shall they
 Pass unrewarded at the last great day,
 When all their pious services I'll own,
 For in my records I shall find 'em down,
 Their brows I'll Crown with wreaths of victory;
 Whilst Mon and Angels stand spectators by;
 A loud I'll then, aloud proclaim them mine,
 And 'mongst my brightest treasures they shall shine
 Their frailty with more tenderness, than e're
 A father did his only son's I'll spare,
 And then, but ah! too late you'll find it then,
 Who were the wise, the only thinking men;
 Then you shall nothing but derision meet,
 Whilst Angels them with loud applauses greet.