My heart did heave, and there came forth “O God!”

By that I knew that Thou wast in the grief,

(Making a golden sceptre of Thy rod,)

To guide and govern it to my relief.

Hadst Thou not had a more than equal part,

Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

But since Thy will my bounds of life assign’d,

Thou know’st my frame and if a single sigh

Ask so much breath, what then remains behind?

Why! if some years of life together fly,

The swiftly-wafting sigh then only is

A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss!

Thy life on earth was grief: to this Thou still

Art constant, while Thy suffering Majesty,

Touch’d with my misery, feels whate’er I feel,

Adopts my woes, and daily grieves in me.

Thy death was but begun on Calvary;

Thou every hour dost in Thy members die!