Affliction: IV
Broken
in
pieces
all
asunder,
Lord,
hunt
me
not,
A
thing
forgot,
Once
a
poore
creature,
now
a
wonder,
A
wonder
tortur'd
in
the
space
Betwixt
this
world
and
that
of
grace.
My
thoughts
are
all
case
of
knives,
Wounding
my
heart
With
scatter'd
smart;
As
watring
pots
give
flowers
their
lives.
Nothing
their
furie
can
controll,
While
they
do
wound
and
prick
my
soul.
All
my
attendants
are
at
strife,
Quitting
their
place
Unto
my
face:
Nothing
performs
the
task
of
life:
The
elements
are
let
loose
to
fight,
And
while
I
live,
trie
out
their
right.
Oh
help,
my
God!
let
not
their
plot
Kill
them
and
me,
And
also
thee,
Who
art
my
life:
dissolve
the
knot,
As
the
sunne
scatters
by
his
light
All
the
rebellions
of
the
night.
Then
shall
those
powers,
which
work
for
grief,
Enter
thy
pay,
And
day
by
day
Labour
thy
praise,
and
my
relief;
With
care
and
courage
building
me,
Till
I
reach
heav'n,
and
much
more
thee.
