Thou mightie God, that rightest every wrong, Listen to patience in a dying song. When Job had lost his Children, Lands, and goods, Patience asswaged his excessive paine, And when his sorrowes came as fast as flouds, hope kept his hart, till comfort came againe. When Davids life by Saul was often sought, And worlds of woes did compasse him about, On dire revenge he never had a thought, But in his griefes, Hope still did help him out. When the poore Criple by the Poole did lye, Full many yeeres in misery and paine, No sooner hee on Christ had set his eye, But hee was well, and comfort came againe. No David, Job, nor Criple in more griefe, Christ give mee patience, and my Hopes reliefe.