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!