Distressed Sion Relieved Or, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness. Wherein are Discovered the Grand Causes of the Churches Trouble and Misery under the late Dismal Dispensation. With a Compleat History of, and Lamentation for those Renowned Worthies that fell in England by Popish Rage and Cruelty, from the Year 1680 to 1688. Together with an Account of the late Admirable and Stupendious Providence which hath wrought such a sudden and Wonderful Deliverance for this Nation, and Gods Sion therein. Humbly Dedicated to their Present Majesties. By Benjamin Keach |
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 | Distressed Sion Relieved |  |
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‘So I'm surrounded, so the Beasts of prey
‘Conspire to take my Life and Name away.
‘My glowing Soul does melt, my Spirits faint
‘For want of vent, I'm pregnant with complaint;
‘No Age nor Generation but has known
‘Some part of this my just and grievous moan,
‘But now I'm far more dangerously charg'd
‘By bolder Foes; my sorrows are enlarg'd,
‘A Hellish Tribe of black Avernus Crew,
‘Do Blood-hound like, me and my Lambs pursue.
‘Lord Jesus come; O Christ, let me invoke,
‘Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke.
‘Have all my Friends forsook me? Are there none
‘To ease my woes? Ah must I grieve alone?
Sion's Friend.‘Conspire to take my Life and Name away.
‘My glowing Soul does melt, my Spirits faint
‘For want of vent, I'm pregnant with complaint;
‘No Age nor Generation but has known
‘Some part of this my just and grievous moan,
‘But now I'm far more dangerously charg'd
‘By bolder Foes; my sorrows are enlarg'd,
‘A Hellish Tribe of black Avernus Crew,
‘Do Blood-hound like, me and my Lambs pursue.
‘Lord Jesus come; O Christ, let me invoke,
‘Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke.
‘Have all my Friends forsook me? Are there none
‘To ease my woes? Ah must I grieve alone?
‘What doleful noise salutes my listning Ear?
‘What grief expressing voice is that I hear?
‘Methinks the accent of this dismal cry
‘Issues from one in great extremity;
‘The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks
‘A Womans loud and unregarded shrieks.
‘The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed,
‘The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed.
‘Ah! who can find her out? who can make known
‘The Author of this Heart-relenting moan;
‘Doubtless though sorrow now has seiz'd upon her,
‘She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour,
‘Of Royal Stem, extracted from above,
‘Nurs'd in the Chambers of the Fathers Love,
‘Espoused to a most Illustrious Prince,
‘Who over all has Just Preheminence,
‘Monarch of Monarchs!
‘What grief expressing voice is that I hear?
‘Methinks the accent of this dismal cry
‘Issues from one in great extremity;
‘The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks
‘A Womans loud and unregarded shrieks.
‘The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed,
‘The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed.
‘Ah! who can find her out? who can make known
‘The Author of this Heart-relenting moan;
‘Doubtless though sorrow now has seiz'd upon her,
‘She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour,
‘Of Royal Stem, extracted from above,
‘Nurs'd in the Chambers of the Fathers Love,
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‘Who over all has Just Preheminence,
‘Monarch of Monarchs!
‘Ah Sion! is it thou?
‘Oh mourn my Soul, Oh let my Spirit bow;
‘Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief,
‘For Sion weeps as if past all relief;
‘But why, O Sion, (since thou art belov'd
‘Of Heaven's Supream) art thou so sadly mov'd?
‘Why with stretcht Arms dost thou implore the Skies?
‘Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes?
‘This makes me wonder.
‘Oh mourn my Soul, Oh let my Spirit bow;
‘Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief,
‘For Sion weeps as if past all relief;
‘But why, O Sion, (since thou art belov'd
‘Of Heaven's Supream) art thou so sadly mov'd?
‘Why with stretcht Arms dost thou implore the Skies?
‘Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes?
‘This makes me wonder.
Sion.
‘My forlorn Estate
‘Is poor, unpitied, mean and desolate.
‘I long have wandred in the Wilderness,
‘Involv'd in trouble and in sore distress;
‘In Caves absconding from the horrid rage
‘Of savage Beasts; until this latter Age.
‘Yet when I but attempted to look out,
‘The Monsters to destroy me searcht about;
‘The roaring Bloud-hounds greedy on the scent,
‘To kill or drive me back again are bent.
‘No interval of peace, no rest they give,
‘Pronounce me cursed, and not fit to live.
‘The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast
‘To gore my sides, and spoil my Interest;
‘Th' old Lion, Lyonness, and the Lyons whelp,
‘With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help.
‘Dogs, Bulls and Foxes, Bears and Wolves agree
‘To rend and tear, and make a spoil of me.
‘I that have been so delicately bred,
‘My Children at the Royal Table fed,
‘Am now expos'd to the Infernal spight
‘Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight.
‘Hatch Plots in Hell and Rome, whose black design
‘Is to stab Monarchs, and to undermine
‘Our Ancient Laws, subvert Religion, and
‘Bow Englands Neck to Antichrists command.
‘These were Fore-runners of that dismal Doom
‘Of Fire and Faggot, which the Whore of Rome
‘Prepar'd for English Protestants, and the rest,
‘Who won't adore the Image of the Beast.
‘I am the mark these Monsters aim at; all
‘Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall.
‘If Friends or Strangers any favour show,
‘They straight conspire to work their overthrow.
‘Is poor, unpitied, mean and desolate.
‘I long have wandred in the Wilderness,
‘Involv'd in trouble and in sore distress;
‘In Caves absconding from the horrid rage
‘Of savage Beasts; until this latter Age.
‘Yet when I but attempted to look out,
‘The Monsters to destroy me searcht about;
‘The roaring Bloud-hounds greedy on the scent,
‘To kill or drive me back again are bent.
‘No interval of peace, no rest they give,
‘Pronounce me cursed, and not fit to live.
‘The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast
‘To gore my sides, and spoil my Interest;
‘Th' old Lion, Lyonness, and the Lyons whelp,
‘With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help.
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‘To rend and tear, and make a spoil of me.
‘I that have been so delicately bred,
‘My Children at the Royal Table fed,
‘Am now expos'd to the Infernal spight
‘Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight.
‘Hatch Plots in Hell and Rome, whose black design
‘Is to stab Monarchs, and to undermine
‘Our Ancient Laws, subvert Religion, and
‘Bow Englands Neck to Antichrists command.
‘These were Fore-runners of that dismal Doom
‘Of Fire and Faggot, which the Whore of Rome
‘Prepar'd for English Protestants, and the rest,
‘Who won't adore the Image of the Beast.
‘I am the mark these Monsters aim at; all
‘Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall.
‘If Friends or Strangers any favour show,
‘They straight conspire to work their overthrow.
| Distressed Sion Relieved | |