The Song of the SITHE

O My Long-suffering Lord, I own, And thy rich Patience praise; The Mower, he has not cut me down; I stand; O wondrous Grace!

I wait, O of my Life the. GOD! I'm waiting for the Stroke. I see the Mower: He's on the Road; Soon, soon, I'am overtook!

O that I were in Safety got; That what I can't Evade I may with Comfort meet, and not Be of the Sithe afraid.

I do with a Repenting Heart To thee, my GOD, Return; From all my Idols I depart, And for my Follies mourn.

To Thee, my SAVIOUR, I Resign, All that belongs to me; Willing to be entirely Thine, And Heal'd and Rul'd by Thee.

By Thee to be Redeem'd, and made Righteous and Holy too; And by thy Counsil to be led, Thy endless Glory to.

Now, Welcome Sithe; Come, Do thy worst; Strike; Thou canst do no more, But fit me to be Lodg'd, I trust, In my GOD's Blessed Floor.