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Deliverance from Another Sore Fit

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Written by Anne Bradstreet

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 In my distress I sought the Lord 
When naught on earth could comfort give, 
And when my soul these things abhorred, 
Then, Lord, Thou said'st unto me, "Live.
" Thou knowest the sorrows that I felt; My plaints and groans were heard of Thee, And how in sweat I seemed to melt Thou help'st and Thou regardest me.
My wasted flesh Thou didst restore, My feeble loins didst gird with strength, Yea, when I was most low and poor, I said I shall praise Thee at length.
What shall I render to my God For all His bounty showed to me? Even for His mercies in His rod, Where pity most of all I see.
My heart I wholly give to Thee; O make it fruitful, faithful Lord.
My life shall dedicated be To praise in thought, in deed, in word.
Thou know'st no life I did require Longer than still Thy name to praise, Nor ought on earth worthy desire, In drawing out these wretched days.
Thy name and praise to celebrate, O Lord, for aye is my request.
O grant I do it in this state, And then with Thee, which is the best.

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