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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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Sighs for Ireland.

Sighs for Ireland.

O Lord who hast such wonders wrought
Of late as well as formerly!
And down with vengeance now hast brought
Thy Churches bloudy Enemy;
Oh! look upon poor Ireland,
And save them with thine own right hand.
Lord Bless our King; and as he's great,
Let him be likewise just and good;
His Enemies, O Lord defeat!
VVho greedily thirst for his blood:
Oh! be his guard continually,
From workers of Iniquity.
Shall England thus triumph and sing,
VVhilst Ireland still does bleeding lye?
Ah! this is an afflicting thing,
It wounds our Souls, and makes us cry,
To Ireland, Lord, send help we pray,
Ah! succour them without delay.
Unite us here, and make us one,
And let our mutual Love appear,
Let's never into fractions run,
And then our Foes we need not fear,
Whilst Protestants united be,
No dread of Rome or Popery.
The Sun on us begins to shine,
Lord! let it break forth more and more,
And by that mighty pow'r of thine,
Confound our Foes as heretofore;
Arise O Lord, Let Ireland be,
Reliev'd with speed and sav'd by thee.
These days in England seem to us,
As pleasant as the flourishing spring,

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Oh! let them still continue thus!
Prevent our Foes; Preserve our King;
Thy People, Lord, in Ireland
Redeem with thy out-stretched hand.
When we for Darkness look't, and Night,
At Evening tyde we did behold
The Sun broke forth with Glorious Light,
As in the Scripture 'tis foretold.
O're Ireland, Lord, thy beams display,
Like to the dawning of the day.
Let not our Sun Eclipsed be,
Nor Clouds of Darkness interpose
Between Great Britain, Lord, and thee,
Since thus in Mercy thou art rose:
From Ireland let's good Tydings here,
That thou likewise art risen there.
Let not thy Glorious Sun appear
To lighten only these dark Parts;
But let the Nations, far and near,
Thy Gospel-Light have in their hearts:
From Ireland, Lord, all Clouds expel;
Oh, pity there thy Israel.
Let Light and Glory there break forth,
And Popish darkness thence be gone;
That all good Protestants on Earth
In the Truth, may be joyn'd in one:
On Ireland, Lord, Compassion take,
Their Sorrows we our own would make.
Let the French Tyrant, thy Great Foe,
The Scourge and Plague of Christendom.
Receive an utter Overthrow;
Ah! quickly let his downfall come:
Those vile Usurpers, Lord, abase,
And pity there, thy Childrens case.
Let France, and Spain, and Germany
Enlightned be; and let them see
The folly of Idolatry:
From Babylon, Lord, make them flee,
Because her Judgment now is come,
And they thereby may 'scape her doom.
Let Christendom new Christened be,
(why should they still believe a Lye?)
And not on Names depend; But see
The great Deceits of Popery:

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Christ's Name no good at all will do,
Unless they have his Nature too.
Let thy blest Gospel grow and work
Victoriously in every place;
Let Tartars, and the ignorant Turk
Enlightned be with Heavenly Grace:
Poor Ireland, Lord, relieve with speed,
For whom our Hearts do almost bleed.
Send forth thy Light ev'n like the Morn,
That it o're all the Earth may fly,
From Cancer unto Capricorn;
That all Lands, which in darkness lye,
May see how they have gone astray,
And be reduc'd to the Right way.
The fulness of the Gentiles now
Bring in; and give them all a Call,
That they may unto Jesus bow,
And under his Dominion fall:
That Popish Pow'r, which do's annoy
Poor Ireland, Lord, do thou destroy
The Gospel-Tydings, and good News
Of Jesus Christ the Saviour,
Declare to the hard-hearted Jews,
And their strong Unbelief o're-power:
Oh let the Gospel on them shine,
For Abraham's sake, that Friend of thine.
The Saints be'ng many Members join'd,
One Body make; the Head thou art;
Lord, let them have One Will, One Mind;
Let this One Body have One Heart:
Then shall I see a blest increase
Of Sion's Glory; Israel's Peace.
Out of all Nations under Heaven
Expel thick Darkness, Lord, away;
Let Power to thy Saints be given,
That all may thee and them obey:
Mean while, let these three Northern Lands
United be in Sacred Bands.
Let Holland likewise Happy be,
Bless those Great Sev'n; Preserve these Three.