My heart did heave, and there came forth, 'O God'! 
By that I knew that thou wast in the grief, 
To guide and govern it to my relief, 
Making a sceptre of the rod: 
Hadst thou not had thy part, 
Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

But since thy breath gave me both life and shape, 
Thou know'st my tallies; and when there's assigned 
So much breath to a sigh, what's then behind? 
Or if some years with it escape, 
The sigh then only is
A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss.

Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still
Constant unto it, making it to be
A point of honour now to grieve in me, 
And in thy members suffer ill.
They who lament one cross, 
Thou dying daily, praise thee to thy loss.