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The Sinners Complaint.
AH Lord so long! what sudden fears?
What cares and doubts, what sighs and teares,
Since last thou did'st afford thy loving look
Have me oprest,
And rob'd of rest,
Because thou Lord thy servant hast forsook?
If not a look, yet hear me speak,
And pittie me; O do not break
Thy bruised reed; why should'st thou strive with man,
Whose dayes are done,
When but begun,
Sith thou great God hast measur'd out his span?
Amaze me not with fearfull things;
Give me thy grace, O give me wings
Of swift desire, and holy zeal, to raise
My soul to skies,
With powerfull cryes.;
That I may sweetly warble forth thy praise,
Thou art my Centre, fix me there,
Or move me in thy blessed Sphere;
Suffer me not (dear Lord) to moove from thee,
There is no rest,
But in thy Brest,
And in thine absence present misery.
O that I were at rest with thee,
Or else that thou wert come to mee,