My throat, my soul is hoarse; My heart is withered, like a ground Which thou dost curse. My thoughts run round, And make me giddy; Lord, I fall;— Yet call. From thee all pity flows. Mothers are kind, because thou art, And dost dispose To them a part; Their infants them, and they suck thee, Bowels of pity, hear! More free. Lord of my soul, love of my mind, Bow down thine ear! Let not the wind Scatter my words; and, in the same, Thy name! Look on my sorrows round! Mark well my furnace! Oh, what flames, What heats, abound! What griefs, what shames! Consider, Lord! Lord, bow thine ear, And hear! Lord Jesu, thou didst bow Thy dying head upon the tree; Oh, be not now More dead to me! Lord, hear! Shall he that made the ear Not hear? Behold thy dust doth stir; It moves, it creeps, it aims at thee. To succor me, Thy pile of dust, wherein each crumb Says, "Come?" To thee help appertains. Hast thou left all things to their course, And laid the reins Upon the horse? Is all locked? Hath a sinner's plea No key? Indeed, the world's thy book Where all things have their leaf assigned: Yet a meek look Hath interlined. Thy board is full, yet humble guests, Find nests. Thou tarriest, while I die, And fall to nothing: thou dost reign, And rule on high, While I remain In bitter grief; yet I am styled Thy child. Lord, didst thou leave thy throne, Not to relieve? How can it be, That thou art grown Thus hard to me? Were sin alive, good cause there were To bear. And all thy promises live and 'bide. These speak and chide, And in thy bosom pour my tears, As theirs. Lord JESU, hear my heart! Which hath been broken now so long, Hath got a tongue. Thy beggars grow; rid them away To day. My love, my sweetness, hear! By these thy feet, at which my heart Lies all the year, Pluck out thy dart, And heal my troubled breast, which cries, Which dies. The Bag. AWAY, Despair! my gracious Lord doth hear. Though winds and waves assault my keel, He doth preserve it; he doth steer, E'en when the boat seems most to reel. Storms are the triumph of his art: Well may he close his eyes, but not his heart. Hast thou not heard, that my Lord Jesus died? Then let me tell thee a strange story. The God of Power, as he did ride In his majestic robes of glory, Resolved to light; and so, one day, He did descend, undressing all the way. The stars his tire of light and rings obtained; And when they asked what he would wear, He smiled, and said, as he did go, He had new clothes a making here below. When he was come, as travellers are wont, Both then, and after, many a brunt But, as he was returning, there came one, He who came hither all alone, Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, Received the blow upon his side; And straight he turned, and to his brethren cried: "If ye have any thing to send, or write, (I have no bag, but here is room,) Unto my father's hands and sight, Believe me, it shall safely come. That I may mind what you impart, "Or if, hereafter, any of my friends Will use me in this kind, the door Shall still be open: what he sends I will present; and somewhat more,- The Jews. POOR nation, whose sweet sap and juice Our scions have purloined, and left you dry: Whose streams we got by the apostles' sluice, And use in baptism, while ye pine and die : Who by not keeping once became a debtor; And now by keeping lose the letter: Oh, that my prayers-mine, alas! Oh, that some angel might a trumpet sound; That your sweet sap might come again! The Collar. I STRUCK the board, and cried, "No more! What! shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the road, Shall I be still in suit? |