If war or want shall make me grow so poor, As for to beg my bread from door to door; Lord! let me never act that beggar’s part, Who hath Thee in his mouth, not in his heart: He who asks alms in that so sacred Name, Without due reverence, plays the cheater’s game.

In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown’d in sleep, […]

Afflictions bring us joy in times to come, When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.

Adverse and prosperous fortunes both work on Here, for the righteous man’s salvation; Be he oppos’d, or be he not withstood, All serve to th’ augmentation of his good.

Lord, Thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof; Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry; Where Thou my chamber for to ward Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me, while I sleep. Low is my porch, […]

I’ll come, I’ll creep, though Thou dost threat, Humbly unto Thy mercy-seat: When I am there, this then I’ll do, Give Thee a dart, and dagger too; Next, when I have my faults confessed, Naked I’ll show a sighing breast; Which if that can’t Thy pity woo, Then let Thy justice do the rest And […]

Lord, do not beat me, Since I do sob and cry, And swoon away to die, Ere Thou dost threat me. Lord, do not scourge me, If I by lies and oaths Have soil’d myself or clothes, But rather purge me.

Make, make me Thine, my gracious God, Or with Thy staff, or with Thy rod; And be the blow, too, what it will, Lord, I will kiss it, though it kill: Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me, Yet, in torments, I’ll commend Thee; Examine me with fire, and prove me To the full, […]

Happy’s that man to whom God gives A stock of goods, whereby he lives Near to the wishes of his heart: No man is blest through every part.

God will have all, or none; serve Him, or fall Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial: Either be hot or cold: God doth despise, Abhor, and spew out all neutralities.

Can I not come to Thee, my God, for these So very many meeting hindrances, That slack my pace, but yet not make me stay? Who slowly goes, rids, in the end, his way. Clear Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles, Remove the bars, or lift me o’er the stiles; Since rough the […]

I do believe that die I must, And be return’d from out my dust: I do believe that when I rise, Christ I shall see, with these same eyes: I do believe that I must come, With others, to the dreadful doom: I do believe the bad must go From thence, to everlasting woe: I […]

Abundant plagues I late have had, Yet none of these have made me sad: For why? My Saviour with the sense Of suff’ring gives me patience.

Through all the night Thou dost me fright, And hold’st mine eyes from sleeping; And day by day, My cup can say My wine is mix’d with weeping. Thou dost my bread With ashes knead Each evening and each morrow; Mine eye and ear Do see and hear The coming in of sorrow. Thy scourge […]

How am I bound to Two! God, who doth give The mind; the king, the means whereby I live.

Give me honours! what are these, But the pleasing hindrances? Stiles, and stops, and stays that come In the way ‘twixt me and home; Clear the walk, and then shall I To my heaven less run than fly.

Where God is merry, there write down thy fears: What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.

To a love-feast we both invited are: The figur’d damask, or pure diaper, Over the golden altar now is spread, With bread, and wine, and vessels furnished; The sacred towel and the holy ewer Are ready by, to make the guests all pure: Let’s go, my Alma; yet, ere we receive, Fit, fit it is […]

Although we cannot turn the fervent fit Of sin, we must strive ‘gainst the stream of it; And howsoe’er we have the conquest miss’d, ‘Tis for our glory that we did resist.

God gives not only corn for need, But likewise sup’rabundant seed; Bread for our service, bread for show, Meat for our meals, and fragments too: He gives not poorly, taking some Between the finger and the thumb; But for our glut and for our store, Fine flour press’d down, and running o’er.