A true sence of Sorrow:
OR THE
Poor York-shire-Man protected by Providence,
in the greatest time of trouble.
When Grief and Care, almost Dispair,
does seem to overthrow;
Men in Distress and heaviness,
the Lord can kindness show.
To the Tune of, Rich Merchant-Man.
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THere was a poor York-shire Man,
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that was in great distress,
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Most pittiously made his complaint
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with grief and heaviness.
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For scarcity and want,
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he was oppressed sore,
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He could not find his Children bread,
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he was so very poor.
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And his poor Wife, God wot,
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was lately brought to bed,
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With two poor Infants at her Breast,
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and had no Drink nor Bread.
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A woeful Lying-in,
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was this the Lord doth know,
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God keep every Woman,
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from knowing of such woe.
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O husband dear she said,
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for want of Food I dye,
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Some succor do for me provide,
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to help my misery.
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The Man with many a Tear,
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most mournfully repli'd,
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I have no money to buy us Bread,
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and then his Children cri'd.
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They came about him round,
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and on his Cloaths they hung
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And sadly made their complaint,
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their little hands they wrung.
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Do not cry my Babes, he said,
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I will go seek some food,
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He took his Gun then in his hand,
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and going to the Wood.
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And in the way as he went,
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he met Farmers two or three,
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And begg'd for Christ his sake,
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to help his Misery.
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Pray lend me the poor Man said,
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one loaf of Barly Bread,
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One pint of milk for my poor Wife,
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in Childbed almost dead.
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Think on my mighty need,
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to lend me have no doubt,
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I have no money for to pay,
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but I will work it out.
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But they in snappish sort,
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did one by one reply,
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We have already lent you more,
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then we can well come by.
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this struck him to the Heart,
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as cold as any stone,
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And straight from them he did depart,
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with many a sigh and groan.
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And at the length behold,
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a tall man he did meet,
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And coleblack was his Garments all,
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from Head unto the Feet.
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Thou blessed man said he,
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Why mourneth thou so sore,
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What is the cause you make such moan,
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then tell me, and sigh no more.
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Alas! good Sir, he said,
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this thing for truth I know,
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That Job was just, yet never man
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endured greater Woe.
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The man he pull'd out straight,
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a handful of money bright,
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Bid him go and relieve his Wife
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and his Children that night.
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Cause thou so faithful be,
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and righteous do remain,
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You shall be fed as Daniel was,
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within the Lyons Den.
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If truth in thee abide,
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thou shalt not want for food,
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Thou shalt be fed as Elias was,
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that rambled in the Wood.
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O blessed Lord, said the poor man,
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what a happy man am I,
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To have some food to give my Babes,
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to help their misery.
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I hope the Lord will bless,
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this honest Gentleman,
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For every penny that he gave me,
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the Lord may send him ten.
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The Lord have heard his prayer,
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and him a plenty send,
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But the Farmers both are very poor,
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that would him nothing lend.
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See what the Lord will do,
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with men that are so just,
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The Lord will always stand his Friend,
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if that you in him trust.
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