Ii

My parched and withered bones Burnt up did seem: my soul was full of groans: My thoughts extensions were: Like paces, reaches, steps they did appear: They somewhat hotly did pursue, Knew that they had not all their due, Nor ever quiet were: But made my flesh like hungry, thirsty ground, My heart a deep profound abyss, And every joy and pleasure but a wound, So long as I my Blessedness did miss. O Happiness! A famine burns, And all my life to anguish turns!