Classic Poem

The Sorrows of my Heart enlarged are,
Whilst I my present State, with past compare.
I frequently unto God's House did go,
With Christian Friends, his Praises forth to show.
But now, I solitary sit, both sigh and cry,
Whilst my Flock's Misery think on do I.
Many, both Old and Young were slain out-right;
Some in a bitter Season take their Flight;
Some burnt to Death; and others stifled were;
The Enemy, no Age or Sex would spare.
The tender Children, with their Parents sad,
Are carry'd forth as Captives. Some unclad,
Some Murdered in the Way, unburied left;
And some thro' Famine, were of Life bereft.
After a tedious Journey, some are sold,
Some left in Heathen Hands, all from Christ's Fold
By Popish Rage , and Heath'nish Crueltie,
Are banished. Yea some compell'd to be
Present at Mass . Young Children parted are
From Parents, and such as Instructors were.
Crafty Designs are us'd by Papists all,
In Ignorance of Truth, them to inthrall:
Some threatned are, unless they will comply;
In Heathens Hands again be made to lye.
To some, large Promises are made, if they,
Will Truths renounce, and chuse their Popish Way.
Oh Lord! mine Eyes on Thee shall waiting be,
Till Thou again turn our Captivitie.
Their Romish Plots, Thou canst confound, and save
This little Flock, this Mercy I do crave.
Save us from all our Sins, and yet again,
Deliver us from them who Truth disdain.
Lord! For thy Mercy sake, thy Cov'nant mind;
And in thy House again, Rest let us find.
So we thy Praises forth will shew, and speak,
Of all thy wondrous Works; yea we will seek
Th' Advancement of thy great and glorious Name,
Thy Rich, and Sovereign Grace, we will proclaim.