XLIV. Francis Davison

LORD, how long, how long wilt thou

Quight forget, and quight neglect me?

How long, with a frowning brow,

Wilt thou from thy sight reject me?

How long shall I seeke a way

Forth this maze of thoughts perplexed,

Where my griev’d mind, night and day,

Is with thinking tried and vexed?

How long shall my scornful foe

(On my fall his greatness placing)

Build upon my overthrowe,

And be grac’d by my disgracing?

Heare, O Lord and God, my cries;

Mark my foe’s unjust abusing;

And illuminate mine eies,

Heavenly beams in them infusing:

Lest my woes, too great to beare,

And too infinite to nomber,

Rocke me soone, ’twixt hope and fear,

Into Death’s eternal slomber:

Lest my foes their boasting make,

“Spight of right on him we trample;”

And in pride of mischief take,

Heartned by my sad example.

As for me, I’ll ride secure

At thy mercies’ sacred anchor,

And undaunted will endure

Fiercest storms of wrong and rancour.

These blacke clowdes will overflowe,

Sun-shine shall have his returning;

And my grief-dull’d heart, I knowe,

Into mirth shall change his mourning.

Therefore I’ll rejoyce, and sing

Hymnes to God in sacred measure,

Who to happie passe will bring

My just hopes, at his good pleasure!