Patience: Or, Comforts In Crosses.

In the hope of ease to come,
Let's endure one martyrdom.

Be not dismayed though crosses cast thee down;
Thy fall is but the rising to a crown.

Lord, who hast suffer’d all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure,
The lighter cross I bear for thee,
Help me with patience to endure.


The storm of loud repining hush,
I would in humble silence mourn;
Why should the unburnt though burning bush,
Be angry as the crackling thorn?


Man should not faint at thy rebuke,
Like Joshua falling on his face,[1]
When the curst thing that Achan took
Brought Israel into just disgrace.


Perhaps some golden wedge suppress’d,
Some secret sin offends my God;
Perhaps that Babylonish vest,
Self-righteousness, provokes the rod.


Ah! were I buffeted all day,
Mock’d, crown’d with thorns, and spit upon;
I yet should have no right to say,
My great distress is mine a...

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.

Afflictions they most profitable are
To the beholder and the sufferer:
Bettering them both, but by a double strain,
The first by patience, and the last by pain.

Kings must not use the axe for each offence:
Princes cure some faults by their patience.