A poem from the beginning of a 1610 Geneva NT which sets the stage for the new year.
HT: Running Well
This Sacred Writ, although it be but small,
One day must pass just sentence on us all,
Let life be wicked, loose, or how it will,
Heaven's for the just, but hell for wicked still.
This Sacred Volume then shall be my guide,
Since at my end by it I must be tried.