Meditations in Trouble

Alas, when my distressed Mind, Thro' secret Drawings, is inclin'd, Great King! to wait on thee; O how the subtil Enemy Presents fond Fancies, to entice aside My Heart from true Stability; So to despise true lasting Joys, And encertain vain transitory Toys, Which ne'er can satiate the Soul, when try'd.

O how would Sloth entice mine Eyes! My weary Eyes to Sleep, That had more cause to Weep, Because the Solace of my Soul seems gone, And lest my Heart alone, Surrounded with a Troop of Enemies.

O whither he gone? Or where Shall I go mourn, 'till he appear, Who is my Life, my Love? Alas, how shall I move Him to return, that's secretly retir'd; Like unto one displeas'd, Who, till he be appeas'd; My Heart cannot be eas'd; He is one lovely, and to be admir'd!

How long, alas, my Love, my Life, Wilt thou with-hold the Influence Of thy Enam'ring Countenance, The Light of Life, Bow down thine Lar To an afflicted Heart, and hear Its Cries and Groans, and grant Relief.

Without thy Presence all's in vain; Alas! How long shall I complain? The Cause of Grief is not trom thee. Is there not some Iniquity, That keeps thus at a distance from my Love? Or art thou pleas'd to shroud Me thus, as in a Cloud? How long, Lord, shall it be Before thou please to answer from above?

'Tis none but thee, thou Holy One! 'Tis thy Prevailing Light alone Can rend the Vail, and all these Clouds remove; It's thou that grieves for me, And makes my Soul in Sympathy, Thus pant after thee, thou God of Love.