KILL me not ev'ry day, Thou Lord of life; since thy one death for me Is more than all my deaths can be, Though I in broken pay Die over each hour of Methusalems stay. If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer, sea, and brine; What were they all, compar'd to thine? Wherein if they were set, They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat. Thou art my grief alone; Thou, Lord, conceal it not; and as thou art All my delight, so all my smart: Thy crosse took up in one, By way of imprest, all my future mone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FABLES: 1ST SER. 5. THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM by JOHN GAY THE MESSAGES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON A DUTCH PROVERB by MATTHEW PRIOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT [OR AFTER] CORUNNA by CHARLES WOLFE THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |