Another On The Same Subject Poem by Rees Prichard

Thou God of mercy! consolation's Sire!
Thou author of my health, my chief delight!
Hear an afflicted sinner's warm desire,
Who begs for aid, and favour in thy sight!

Before thine eyes my sev'ral vices come,
With all the errors of a life mis-spent :
So black their hue! so countless was their sum!
Thou therefore hast on me this sickness sent.

Had I been justly punish'd for each crime,
I merited a penance more severe,
A sorer sickness, and a shorter time,
Nay, far acuter pains I ought to bear.

My neck might have been broke in racking pain,
And, for my sins, my life brought to an end,
I might, for them, have been or drown'd, or slain,
No time allow'd my morals to amend.

It was thy love on me this sickness brought,
(I see it now most evidently clear.)
To punish me for every secret fault,
And rouse me up to penitence sincere.

Thou dost not, Source of ev'ry good! desire
That any sinner shou'd forever die,
But rather his amendment dost require,
That he may live to all eternity.

By this my corp'ral sufferance, 'tis plain,
That I must once to death a victim fall,
And by this pungent grief, and piercing pain,
Thou dost thy servant to repentance call.

Though thy displeasure I so much deserve,
Do not, O Lord! thy utmost pow'r employ,
Exert not all thy wrath without reserve,
Chastise me, gracious God! but don't destroy.

Thy shafts, O Lord! have pierc'd me to the heart,
My bones are broken, none of them are whole,
My spirit grieves thro' th' agonizing smart :
Come, Lord, and whisper comfort to my soul!

Thou, for my sins, hast dealt me many a wound,
And I've deserv'd them all, I must confess:
Yet none, but thee, my Saviour, can be found,
Who can relieve me in my great distress.

Thou dost the sinner slay, and thou dost save,
Thou woundest, and dost give the med'cine too,
Thou bringest to, thou savest from, the grave,
Thou mercy and correction both dost shew.

'Tis thou, O Lord! that dost inflict disease,
'Tis thou alone canst give me health, O Lord!
And none besides, can give me any ease,
Nor any comfort in my case afford.

For thy great kindness and thy mercy's sake,
And for the honour of thy glorious name,
Forgive my sins, my pain less pungent make,
Rescue my soul, support this feeble frame.

If thou hast not set bounds unto my age,
And mark'd the time, whereon my life must cease,
Do thou, O God! this racking pain assuage,
And give me some - tho' but a little, ease.

Return, O Lord! my fainting heart to cheer ;
How long shall thy destroying anger burn?
Observe my woes, my plaintive accents hear,
O heal me now, and from thy fury turn!

During my illness, make, O Lord! my bed,
My sackcloth rend, and turn to joy my grief,
Dry up the tears, which I so long have shed,
Assuage my pain, and give me some relief.

Forgive my faults, allay this raging smart,
And save me from th' unfathom'd pit of hell,
That I may worship thee with all my heart,
And, whilst I live, thy boundless praises tell.

Who in the grave thy glorious name shall laud?
Or who shall praise thee in the realms of death?
Or spare my life, my ever-gracious God!
That I may praise thee with my latest breath.

So shall I chant thy glory and thy praise,
And ever in the pleasing task rejoice,
And magnify thy name, throughout my days,
For health restor'd, with elevated voice.