The Soul's Preparation for Christ

Those palefaces and blubbered cheeks, and feeble hearts, and hands of theirs; say thus much unto you, have you no regard of a man in misery? have you no pity saith the Lamenting Church? so doth every grieved & humbled soul, their sighs and sorrows in secret say thus much; oh all you that walk in the streets, have you no remorse of a poor desolate forlorn creature? Had I been only wounded, or had my nature grown weak, some Physician might have eased me, had I been poor, some friends might have enriched me, had I been disgraced, the King might have advanced me to honours, but was there ever sorrow like to my sorrow of soul? It is the God of mercy that shows himself displeased with me, it is the God of all grace and comfort, that hath filled my heart with the venom of his wrath; if there be any pity or compassion in you lend help, and succour such poor distressed souls; if a woman be in travel and her strength faileth her; oh what bitter cries she puts forth, with that all her neighbours come to help her, and when they have done all they can, they pray to heaven for that they cannot do themselves.

Those palefaces and blubbered cheekes, and feeble hearts, and hands of theirs; say thus much unto you, have you no regard of a man in misery? have you no pitty saith the Lamenting Chu•ch? so doth every grieved & humbled soule, their sighes and sorrowes in secret say thus much; oh all you that walke in the streets, have you no remorse of a poore desolate forlorne creature? Had I beene only wounded, or had my nature growne weake, some Physitian might have eased me, had I been poore, some friends might have enriched me, had I beene disgraced, the King might have advanced me to honours, but was there ever sorrow like to my sorrow of soule? It is the God of mercy that shewes himselfe displeased with me, it is the God of all grace and comfort, that hath filled my heart with the venom of his wrath; if there be any pitty or compassion in you lend helpe, and succour such poore distressed soules; if a woman be in travell and her strength faileth her; oh what bitter cries shee puts forth, with that all her neighbours come to helpe her, and when they have done all they can, they pray to heaven for that they cannot doe themselves.