Fountain of pitty, now with pitty flow These Monsters on me dayly gaping go Daily me devoure these spyes Swarms of Foes against me rise O God that art more high than I am low. Still when I feare yet will I trust in Thee Thy Word O God my boast shall ever bee God shall be my hopefull stay Feare shall not that hope dismay For what can feeble flesh do unto me? I, as I can, think, speake, and do the best They to the worst my thoughts, words, doings wrest All their hearts with one consent Are to work my ruin bent From plotting which they give their heads no rest To that intent they secret meetings make They presse me neare my soul in snare to take Thinking slight shall keep them safe But thou Lord in wrathfull chase Their League so surely link'd in sunder shake. Thou didst O Lord with carefull counting look On evry journy I poor exile took Every teare from my sad eyes Saved in thy bottle lyes These matters all are entred in Thy book Then whensoever my distressed spright Crying to thee brings these unto thy sight What remaineth for my Foes Blames and shames and overthrowes For God himself I know for me will fight. God's never falsed word my boast shall bee My boast shall be his word to set me free God shall be my hopefull stay Feare shall not that hope dismay For what can mortall man do unto mee? For this to Thee how deeply stand I bound Lord that my soul dost save my foes confound? Ah, I can no payment make But if thou for payment take The vowes I pay, thy prayses I resound. Thy Prayses who from death hast set me free Whether my feet did headlong carry me Making me of Thy free grace There again to take my place When light of life with living men I see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HASTY PUDDING by JOEL BARLOW THE KING'S JEWEL by PHOEBE CARY WHAT MY LOVER SAID by HOMER GREENE A CHRISTMAS GHOST-STORY; CHRISTMAS-EVE 1899 by THOMAS HARDY ON AN OLD MUFF by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON FESSEDEN'S GARDEN by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 24. AR-RAFI by EDWIN ARNOLD HAYMAKERS' SONG, FR. KING RENE'S HONEYMOON by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |