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Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting

 Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise, 
But ah! It's not in me.
My sinking heart I pray Thee raise So shall I give it Thee.
My life as spider's webb's cut off, Thus fainting have I said, And living man no more shall see But be in silence laid.
My feeble spirit Thou didst revive, My doubting Thou didst chide, And though as dead mad'st me alive, I here a while might 'bide.
Why should I live but to Thy praise? My life is hid with Thee.
O Lord, no longer be my days Than I may fruitful be.

by Anne Bradstreet
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