How long O Lord! shall I forgotten bee?
How long wilt Thou Thy bright Face hide from mee?
How long shall I my thoughts tosse to and fro
And bee thus vext by my insultinge foe?
Giue ease, O Lord; giue light unto mine eyes,
Lest death in endlesse sleepe doth mee surprise;
Lest my proud foe vaunt that hee doth preuaile,
And laugh at mee when I shall faint or faile;
But in Thy mercie all my trust is pight[187]
And thy saluation is my hearte's delight;
Of Thy sweet kindnes therefore sing will I,
And highly praise the name of God, Most High.
[Footnote 187: = pitched. Henry More in one of his Hymns uses the word:
"Lord stretch Thy tent in my straight breast,
Enlarge it downward, that sure rest
May there be _pight_."