Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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| CLXV. |
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| CLXIX. |
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| CLXXX. |
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| CCXIX. | CCXIX. UNREST. |
| CCXX. |
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| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
CCXIX. UNREST.
When I lie down I say, When shall I arise
and the night be gone? and I am full of
tossings to and fro unto the dawning of
the day.—Job.
The night grows on from dark to dark:
My soul within me has no rest:
Through weariness and gloom I mark
The beating of a heart oppressed
With heavy sorrow. Then I pray:
When shall this dreadful darkness go?
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
My soul within me has no rest:
Through weariness and gloom I mark
The beating of a heart oppressed
With heavy sorrow. Then I pray:
When shall this dreadful darkness go?
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
The troubled winds wail round and moan,
Matching my grief with doleful sighs.
The hot tears flow; with many a groan
My fainting spirit then replies,
If some short calm at last it may,
To think and feed fresh tears:—but no;
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
Matching my grief with doleful sighs.
The hot tears flow; with many a groan
My fainting spirit then replies,
190
To think and feed fresh tears:—but no;
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
And when I fondly think to sleep,
Grim visions rise with aspect dire;
Then dropping down from deep to deep
Annihilated I expire,
Whilst grizly spectres me affray
With anguished cries and eyes that glow.
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
Grim visions rise with aspect dire;
Then dropping down from deep to deep
Annihilated I expire,
Whilst grizly spectres me affray
With anguished cries and eyes that glow.
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
My bones are filled with feverish fire:
My tongue has nigh forgot to speak:
My couch is like a burning pyre:
My heart throbs wildly ere it break.
O God, my God, hear when I pray,
And help: no other help I know.
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
My tongue has nigh forgot to speak:
My couch is like a burning pyre:
My heart throbs wildly ere it break.
O God, my God, hear when I pray,
And help: no other help I know.
I am full of tossings to and fro
Unto the dawning of the day.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |