XVII. Anonymous

FEARE not, my soule, thy teares-bedewed praiers,

And thy repentant sighes, shall haue accesse

Before the throne of heaven; beleeue God cares

For mortall men, and would their happinesse.

The angells waite, and offer vp the cries

Of soules that do repent of their amis;

A broken hart is a sweete sacrifice,

Whose sauour at God’s hand accepted is.

From him thy praiers shall not returne in vaine,

Hee is so mercifull, so kind, so good:

From true conuerts hee doth not long detaine

The riches of his loue and pretious blood.

Was not sick Hezekiath’s praier heard?

Or did his bitter teares fall vnrespected?

Nor praiers nor teares were of their entrance bar’d;

Both praiers and teares being so well directed.

Swifter than swiftness vp to heauen they flew,

And to the eares of God they were presented,

Who swift to heare his seruant humbly sew,

Thus by his prophet’s mouth his dome relented.

I haard thy praier (said hee), and eke thy teares,

And where with sicknesse thou wert visited,

Behold! I make the whole, and fifteene yeares

Thy life vpon the earth bee lengthened.

Dispaire not, then, but with loud crieng craue,

Y^t from the staine of sin thou maist bee free,

And from the vault of heauen an eccho haue,

Bee free! O hart, soule, voice, in one agree:

Importune all together to obtaine,

Y^t sweete reuiuing comfort in your paine.