University of Virginia Library


194

CXX.

1

To God, in my distresse,
With cryes I did addresse
My sute; He favor shew.

2

From lipps enclin'd to ly,
From tongs that double bee,
My soule, O Lord, rescue.

3

What shall to thee be given,
Or retribute that eavin
Wnto thy venome wer,
O thow deceatfull tonge?

4

Sharp arows of the strong,
With coals of juniper.

5

Ah woes me! for why,
A wearie pilgrime I
In Meshech mourneing stray.
Ah woes me, so long
That Kedar's tents among,
A stranger I do stay!

6

My soule hath haunted much,
And duelt with such
As peace did highlie hate.

7

Of peace whil I did speek,
And quietnes did seek,
Thē streght they vrg'd debate.