As in the night I restless lie,

I the watch-candle keep in eye;

The innocent I often blame,

For the slow wasting of its flame.

Sweet ease!--O whither are you fled!--

With one short slumber ease my head!

My curtain oft I draw away,

Eager to see the morning ray;

But when the morning gilds the skies,

The morning no relief supplies.

To me, alas! the morning light

Is as afflictive as the night.

My vigorous cries to GOD ascend,

Oh!--will not GOD my cries attend?

Can GOD paternal love forbear--

Can GOD reject a filial prayer?

Is there in Heaven for me no cure--

Why do I then such pains endure?

My flesh in torture oft repines

At what GOD for my good designs;

My spirit the repiner chides,

Submissive to GOD's will abides:

GOD my disease and temper weighs;

No pang superfluous on me lays.

Why should I then my pains decline,

Inflicted by pure love divine?

Let them run out their destined course,

And spend upon me all their force:

Short pains can never grievous be,

Which work a blest eternity.