Like some faire Deer by Hunters close pursued,
Who bath'd in sweet explores the cooling Flood;
So my poore Soul, by eager Foes subdued,
Looks up to thee, the ever-living GOD!
When, when shall I approach that happie Place
Where shines thy Glory, and where rests thy Peace?

I pass my Days in Sighs, in Grones, and Tears,
While my sad Breast incessant Railings load,
'Who now his Cries, or his Petition hears,
Where is, they scornful cry, his boasted GOD?'
My Heart oppress'd, with Anguish and Despaire,
Looks up to thee, sole Auditor of Prayer!

Oh! let thy heavenly Beams these Sorrowes cheere,
Dispell these Clouds of life-consuming Care!
Vouchsafe the Voice of my Distress to heare,
Regard my Sufferings, and attend my Prayer!
While my proud Foes insult me from afar,
Be thou my Refuge from the hostile War!

And see! — my Soul, his glorious Arm display'd!
My Rock of Hope, my high Defence is near;
At length he grants his favourable Aid,
Behold my great Deliverer appear!
Smile then my Soul! nor droop within my Breast,
Trust still in GOD, and he shall give thee Rest!

More verses by Samuel Boyse

Advertisement