We know not what to say;
205Thine eare to'our sighes, teares, thoughts gives voice and word.
O Thou who Satan heard'st in Jobs sicke day,
Heare thy selfe now, for thou in us dost pray.
XXIV.
That wee may change to evennesse
This intermitting aguish Pietie;
210That snatching cramps of wickednesse
And Apoplexies of fast sin, may die;
That musique of thy promises,