O Lord, thou hear'st my dayly moan, 
And see'st my dropping teares:
My Troubles All are Thee before,
My Longings and my feares.

Thou hetherto hast been my God;
Thy help my soul hath found:
Tho' losse and sicknes me assail'd,
Thro' thee I've kept my Ground.

And thy Abode tho'st made with me; 
With Thee my Soul can talk
In secrett places, Thee I find,
Where I doe kneel or walk.

Tho' husband dear bee from me gone, 
Whom I doe love so well;
I have a more beloved one 
Whose comforts far excell.

O stay my heart on thee, my God, 
Uphold my fainting Soul!
And, when I know not what to doe,
I'll on thy mercyes roll.

My weaknes, thou do'st know full well, 
Of Body and of mind.
I, in this world, no comfort have,
But what from Thee I find.

Tho' children thou hast given me,
And freinds I have also:
Yet, if I see Thee not thro' them,
They are no Joy, but woe.

O shine upon me, blessed Lord, 
Ev'n for my Saviour's sake;
In Thee Alone is more than All, 
And there content I'll take.

O hear me, Lord, in this Request, 
As thou before ha'st done:
Bring back my husband, I beseech, 
As thou didst once my Sonne.

So shall I celebrate thy Praise,
Ev'n while my Dayes shall last;
And talk to my Beloved one 
Of all thy Goodnes past.

So both of us thy Kindnes, Lord, 
With Praises shall recount,
And serve Thee better than before, 
Whose Blessings thus surmount.

But give me, Lord, a better heart, 
Then better shall I bee,
To pay the vowes which I doe owe
For ever unto Thee.

Unlesse thou help, what can I doe 
But still my frailty show?
If thou assist me, Lord, 
I shall Return Thee what I owe.

I dreaded that first Robin so,
But he is mastered now,
And I'm accustomed to him grown, —
He hurts a little, though.

I thought if I could only live
Till that first shout got by,
Not all pianos in the woods
Had power to mangle me.

I dared not meet the daffodils,
For fear their yellow gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own.

I wished the grass would hurry,
So when 'twas time to see,
He'd be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch to look at me.

I could not bear the bees should come,
I wished they'd stay away
In those dim countries where they go:
What word had they for me?

They're here, though; not a creature failed,
No blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me,
The Queen of Calvary.

Each one salutes me as he goes,
And I my childish plumes
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking drums.