Psalm 102

Accept my Prayers, nor to the Cry
Of my Affliction stop thine Eare:
Lord, in the time of Misery
And sad restraint serene appeare:
The Sighings of my Spirit heare;
And when I call, with speed reply.

As Smoke, so fleets my Soule away;
My marrow dry'd, as Harths with heat:
My heart struck down, like withered Hay;
Through Sorrow I forsake my meat,
While meagre cares my Liver eate:
The clinging Skin my Bones display.

Like Desert-haunting Pelicans;
In Cities not lesse desolate:
Like Screech-Owles, who with ominous straines
Disturb the Night, and day-light hate:
A Sparrow which hath lost his Mate,
And on a Pinacle complaines.

Reviling Foes my Honour blast,
And frantick men my ruine sweare.
For Bread, I roll'd-on ashes tast;
Each drop I drink mixt with a teare.
For, Lord, O who thy Wrath can beare
Thou raisest, and dost head-long cast.

My Daies short, as the Evening shade;
As Morning Dew consume away:
As Grasse cut downe with Sithes, I fade,
Or like a flower cropt yesterday
But, Lord thou suffer'st no decay:
Thy Promises shall never vade.

For thou shalt from thy Rest arise,
(Since now th'appointed time drawes neare)
And look on Sions miseries,
Her Walls and batter'd Buildings reare;
Whose ruins to thy Saints are deare;
For they her Dust as sacred prise.

Thy Name then shall the Gentiles praise;
All Kings thy Honour celebrate:
For when the Lord shall Sion raise,
His Glory shall ascend in State:
So prone to heare the Desolate,
And succour them in all assaies.

Unto eternall Memory
Our Histories shall this record;
And all that are created by
His pow'rfull Hand, shall feare the Lord,
Who doth such Grace to his afford,
And on the Earth looks from on high;

To heare the pensive Captives grone;
The Sons of Death by him unbound:
His Name againe in Sion known,
That Salem may his Praise resound:
When in his Service all the Round
Of Earth shall there be joyn'd in one.

Yet, Lord, amidst these Hopes thou hast
Consum'd my strength, abridg'd my yeares:
Before my Noon of Life be past
Let me not die thus drown'd in teares.
Time wasts not thee, which all out-weares;
Thy happy Daies for ever last.

Thou mad'st the Earth, thou didst display
The Heavens in various motion roll'd:
These and their Glories shall decay;
But thou shalt thy existence hold:
They like a Garment shall grow old,
And in their changes passe away.

But thou art still the same: before
The World, and after shalt remaine.
You blessed Soules, who God adore,
With Patient Hope your harmes sustaine:
For you shall prosper in his Reign
And yours, subsist for evermore.