XL. T. Marshall

IN terrour’s trapp with thraldome thrust,

Their thornie thoughts to cast and trie,

In conscience cleare from case uniust,

With carpyng cares did call and crie,

And saied, O God, yet thou art he

That can and will deliuer me!

Thus tremblyng there with teares I trodd,

To totter tide in truthe’s defence:

With sighes and sobbs I saied, O God,

Let right not have this recompence;

Lest that my foes might laugh to see,

That thou wouldest not deliuer me.

My soule then to repentaunce ranne,

My ragged clothes berent and torne,

And did bewaile the losse it wanne

With lothsome life so long forlorne;

And saied, O God, yet thou art he

That can and will deliuer me!

Then comfort came with clothes of ioye,

Whose semes were faithfull stedfastnesse;

And did bedecke that naked boye,

Which erst was full of wretchednesse;

And saied, Be glad, for God is he

That shortly will deliuer thee.