My heart did heave, and there came forth, “O God”!

By that I knew that thou wast in the grief,

To guide and govern it to my relief,

Making a sceptre of the rod:

Hadst thou not had thy part,

Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

But since thy breath gave me both life and shape,

Thou know’st my tallies; and when there’s assigned

So much breath to a sigh, what’s then behind?

Or if some years with it escape,

The sigh then only is

A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss.

Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still

Constant unto it, making it to be

A point of honour now to grieve in me,

And in thy members suffer ill.

They who lament one cross,

Thou dying daily, praise thee to thy loss.