The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule Set foorth by Sir William Leighton |
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A prayer in extreame sicknes
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 | The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule |  |
A prayer in extreame sicknes
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Thou God of might hast chastned me,and mee corrected with thy rod:
Wounded my soule with misery,
and humbled me to know my God.
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And soe made soft my stony brest.Thy Arrowes sticke most fast in me:
My heart doth pant, my ioynts opprest,
my flesh me paineth wofully.
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My bodies members mee deceaue,I languish still my strength's decayd,
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I cannot stand but must be stayde.
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Thy hand O God doth presse me sore,my sicknes soe extreamely growes:
That I am euen at deathes dore,
thou do'st it Lord. my heart it knowes.
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That I am vexed thus with payne,it is for sinne and mine offence.
For my misdeeds and trespasse plaine,
the cause of wrathfull recompence.
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Ease me O God, and sucker me,send comfort lay no more on me:
Then I can beare, O suffer me,
to draw my breath, and looke on me.
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O Lord consider my weaknes,beare with my great infirmitie—
Helpe me oh Lord cure my sicknes,
that I may giue all praise to thee.
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Incline thine eares vnto my mones,harke to the voice of my complaint:
Let both my crying and my grones,
come to thy throane oh I am faint.
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I make my plaint to thee alone,for thee alone I haue displeas'd:
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may't please thee that I may be eas'd
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I know not how for to appease,thy high displeasure that's gain'st me:
I am afraide to aske for ease,
or looke on thee that pain'st me.
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I am neare drown'd with deep dispairewhen I in minde doe well perpend:
How I did sinne (sans) feare or care,
without regard of my last end.
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Lord I haue sind, and thou hast said,that at what time I doe repent,
My debts for sinnes shall all be paide,
thy gratious pardon shall be sent.
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On this thy promise Lord I build,vpon thy goodnes I relie:
Mine heart doth to repentance yeelde,
graunt pardon Lord, or else I die.
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Though I haue often heinously,offended, and thy patience prou'd:
By sinning often grieuously,
yet thou with pittie hast been mou'd
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Art slow to strike, yet strong to suffer,thine hands are yron, thy feete of leade:
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then we to aske our dayly bread.
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O now for pittie ease my paine,for Iesus sake, my Lord thy Sonne:
Restore to me my health againe,
if not, Lord let thy will be done.
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But graunt me strength to beare thy yoake,and patience Lord vnto me lend:
That I may bide thine heauie stroake,
& then send Lord what thou wilt send.
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Thy punishments are pursiuants,that thou of faithfull loue dost send:
To all thy true and iust seruants,
to warne them of their latter end.
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Thy rod and staffe doth comfort me,and me vphold t'wixt hope and feare:
Thou gain'st presumption chastnest me,
and th'other keepe me from dispaire.
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To thee O Lord I doe commit,my selfe I neuer will repine:
For thou know'st best what is most fit,
in life and death let me be thine.
FINIS.
| The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule | |