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Poetical fragments heart-employment with God and it selfPoetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self
Poetical fragments heart-employment with God and it self : the concordant discord of a broken-healed heart ... / by Richard Baxter.Poetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self : the concordant discord of a broken-healed heart ... / by Richard Baxter.
London: printed for B. Simmons, 1681
Poem 8: 8. The Prayer of the Sick, in a Case like Hezekiahs.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
16. Health is but Sickness with thy frowns: Life with thy wrath is worse than Death: My comforts thy displeasure drowns, And into groans tunes all my breath. Where is that Faith, and Hope, and Love, By which thou markest all thy Saints? Thy Joys would all my griefs remove, And raise this heart that daily faints.
16. Health is but Sickness with thy frowns: Life with thy wrath is worse than Death: My comforts thy displeasure drowns, And into groans tunes all my breath. Where is that Faith, and Hope, and Love, By which thou markest all thy Saints? Thy Joyes would all my griefs remove, And raise this heart that daily faints.
17. Am I the Jonah? dost thou mean To cast me out into the deep? It shall not drown, but make me clean: Until thou raise me, there I'll sleep. O Death! where is thy poisonous sting? O Grave! where is thy Victory? Thy dust shall shortly rise, and sing God's Praise above the Starry Sky.
17. Am I the Jonas? dost thou mean To cast me out into the deep? It shall not drown, but make me clean: Until thou raise me, there I'll sleep. O Death! where is thy poisonous sting? O Grave! where is thy Victory? Thy dust shall shortly rise, and sing God's Praise above the Starry Sky.
18. My God, my Love, my Hope, my Life! Shall I be loth to see thy face? As if this world of sin and strife, Were for my Soul a better place? O give my Soul some sweet foretaste Of that which I shall shortly see! Let Faith and Love cry to the last, Come Lord, I trust my self with thee.
18. My God, my Love, my Hope, my Life! Shall I be loth to see thy face? As if this world of sin and strife, Were for my Soul a better place? O give my Soul some sweet foretast Of that which I shall shortly see! Let Faith and Love cry to the last, Come Lord, I trust my self with thee.