XVIII. Earl of Cumberland

LORD, chide me not in the tempestuous day

Of thy fierce wrath: O! cast me not away

In thy displeasure, least I fall at once!

Thy galling shafts lye quiuered in my bones.

Prest by thy heauy hand I gaspe for breath;

Thine anger breeds diseases more than death:

My flesh is mangled, and my bones within

Consume and melt, for anguish of my sinne.

My crying sinns above my head appeare,

(Too heauy a weight, alas! for me to beare,)

My mortal wounds gangrene and putrify,

And all because I have done foolishly!

Such misery and trouble I endure

As all day long I beg, and find no cure.

Lord, thou hast heard the ground of my complaint,

And while I prayed thine eyes have seen me faint,

My heart to beate and all my strength quite gone,

Mine eyes, with weeping, blind as any stone;

My friends, my neighbours, kinred, stand at gaze,

While I in fires of persecution blaze:

And those that sought my life in ambush lay,

Cursing and lying, railing all the day.

But I was stupid as the deaf and dumb,

From whose shut doors no sharp reproofes do come;

And yet I hope, though I thus silent be,

Thou, Lord, wilt plague and answer them for me.

Lord, I have praid that this malitious traine,

May never flowte me (in thine anger slaine).

Those, those I meane, that were delighted all

To see me slip, and hope to see me fall.

But O my sinne, that now tormenteth more

My soule than all the paines my body bore,

And now stands staring in my blushing face!

But, Lord, I will confess, and beg thy grace.

And yet my haters liue in height and power,

Not to be numbred, that would me devoure:

All those that for my good repaid me ill

Detest me more, submitted to thy will.

Lord! leaue me not, but make me thine abode;

Oh haste to helpe, my Saviour, oh my God!