XLVI. Joseph Bryan

FROM out the depth of miserie I crie,

To thee, O Lord, and that most earnestlye;

Praiers intermixed with sighes and teares

My soule sends vp into thine eares;

I pour out all my moane

Before thee, thee alone,

And for reliefe

Shew thee my griefe.

Lord, when my troubled spirit could not rest

For anguish of my mind, thou knewest best

What way to help me, and didst see

A path, through all, to set me free.

Thy foes and mine doe lay

Snares for me in my way,

And privilie

In ambush lie.

I look’d on euerie side, but I could see

None that would know, and much lesse succour me;

My frends revolted totally,

On whom I vsed to rely:

All waies to scape by flight

Were stop’d and shut vp quight,

And none did care

My soule to spare.

Thus troubled, laid in wayt for, desolate,

Enclosed round, and thus disconsolate,

I cride to thee, O Lord, and said,

Thou art my hope, my help, my aid,

The rock I build vpon,

My lot, my portion

In this life and

A better land.

O therefore heare my praiers attentively:

For with contempt and waight of misery

My soule doth cleave vnto the dust;

Yet thou, O Lord, art all my trust.

O free me by thy might

From them, against whose spight

And violence

I have no fence.

Lord, bring my soule out of the streights and dread

Wherein my foes haue her imprisoned:

Lord, loose her bands, that for the same

I may give thancks to thy great name;

And that the righteous men

May flock to me agen,

And they with me

Sing praise to thee.

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