Poetical fragments heart-employment with God and it selfPoetical fragments heart-imployment with God and it self

Long thus before my God I lay prostrate, Begging for healing mercy at his gate! And for some longer time, to know his Truth, And not unripe to wither in my Youth! I begged that hasty Death he would delay, And would not snatch me unprepared away. I promised his mercies to rehearse, If he the dreadful Sentence would reverse. Could I have hoped for Hezekiah's years, I should no more than he, have spared tears. ⟨p. 38⟩Yet hath thy Mercy granted me since then, More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten My moan thou pitiedst, and my cries didst hear Delaying Death; not taking off my fear: The threatening malady thou didst abate; And into many others didst translate; Which gave me hope of some preparing space; But none that Earth would prove a Resting place. Appointing me to serve in gentle Chains, In wholesome sickness, and in healing pains! So great as might my head-strong thoughts restrain From running after things terrene and vain: Yet were they not so great as to make less, My Service, or my sober cheerfulness: O what a happy mixture didst thou make! How meet a course did thy wise Mercy take? This was the pregnant blessing, kept for store, Which multiplied into a thousand more! Which hath run parallel with all my days; For which I owe thee everlasting praise: Too great for Volumes; too high for a Verse: And therefore endless Life must them rehearse.

Long thus before my God I lay prostrate, Begging for healing mercy at his gate! And for some longer time, to know his Truth, And not unripe to wither in my Youth! I begg'd that hasty Death he would delay, And would not snatch me unprepar'd away. I promised his mercies to rehearse, If he the dreadful Sentence would reverse. Could I have hop'd for Hezekiah's years, I should no more than he, have spared tears. ⟨p. 38⟩Yet hath thy Mercy granted me since then, More than thrice five, yea more than four times ten My moan thou pity'dst, and my cryes didst hear Delaying Death; not taking off my fear: The threatning malady thou didst abate; And into many others didst translate; Which gave me hope of some preparing space; But none that Earth would prove a Resting place. Appointing me to serve in gentle Chains, In wholsom sickness, and in healing pains! So great as might my head-strong thoughts restrain From running after things terrene and vain: Yet were they not so great as to make less, My Service, or my sober chearfulness: O what a happy mixture didst thou make! How meet a course did thy wise Mercy take? This was the pregnant blessing, kept for store, Which multiply'd into a thousand more! Which hath run parallel with all my daies; For which I owe thee everlasting praise: Too great for Volumes; too high for a Verse: And therefore endless Life must them rehearse.