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AY and Night was I complaining

Of my trouble, Lord, to thee;

I long'd allways for th' obtaining

Of a safe Delivery.

Travellers would have their way

To their End without delay.

So have I been oft desiring

That my Lifetime were Expiring.

For as Roses are inclosed

Round about with Thorns and Stings;

So are Christians here exposed

To a World of Sufferings.

As the Sea is us'd to rise,

In tumultuous Waves and Noise;

So are we by mischiefs hurry'd,

Up and down, till we are bury'd.

World and Sin, yea Hell and Devil,

Joyn with our own Flesh and Blood,

To afflict the Soul with Evil,

And destroy all that is good.

Cares and Crosses every Day

Take our Pleasure here away.

Doleful is our Lif's Beginning;

Woful always, for our Sinning.

The Sun rising every Morning,

Every Evening the Sun set,

Seems to Live us a new Warning

Of mischievous Snares and Net.

Thus we spend our Days and Nights,

Throng'd with sighs, and har'd with frights;

Work and Slave to be maintain'd,

Eat with Tears, what we have gain'd.