The Kentish MIRACLE:
OR,
A Strange and Miraculous Work of Gods Providence, shewed to a poor distressed
Widdow, and her Seven Fatherless Children; who lived by a Burnt Sixpen-
ny Loaf of Bread, and a little Water, for above Seven Weeks, in the Wild of
Kent , to the Praise and Glory of Almighty God.
To the Tune of, A Rich Merchant Man . Entred according to Order .
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T ake comfort Christians all,
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for never shall you see
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The faithful forsaken quite,
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and left in misery.
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Who lives and loves to bear
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the truth in each degree,
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The story of a Widdows plaint,
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let them give ear to me.
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Who by this Widdow here,
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sufficient have been try'd,
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The which was left both poor and bare
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when as her husband dy'd.
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And seven young Children small,
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upon her hands likewise,
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And knew not how to buy them bread
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their hunger to suffice.
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She labours night and day,
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she spins and takes great pain,
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And many a thing to buy them bread
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God knows she lays in pawn.
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But when the appointed time,
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as time consumeth all,
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O then she knew not how to feed
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her hungry Children small.
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M Ost merciful God, said she,
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cast down a tender eye,
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And suffer not thy servant here,
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with famishing death to dye.
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Thou that the Ravens did send
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Elias for to feed,
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When that he was in Wilderness,
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in extream want and need,
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And Rained Bread from Heaven
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old Israel to preserve;
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And would'st not in the Lyons den
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let Daniel pine and starve.
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I know my Lord, she said,
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thou didst five thousand feed,
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With five small barley Loaves,
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as we in Scripture read.
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And each one had enough
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their hunger to sustain,
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And afterwards twelve baskets full
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of scraps did still remain.
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I know my Lord, she said,
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thou art so mighty still,
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And therefore every thing be done
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according to thy will.
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Her Prayers ended thus,
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her Children cry'd straightway,
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O Mother dear give us some bread,
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we have eat none to day.
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Give me some bread, said one,
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give me some bread, said another,
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And thus the silly Infants flock,
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about their careful Mother.
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The good Soul hearing this,
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perswades them to be still,
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O soon at night my lambs, said she,
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you shall have bread your fill.
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I will to Market go,
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let Corn be cheap or dear,
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I'le sell my Coat to buy some Corn
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if you'l be quiet here.
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The Children smil'd at this,
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content they did remain,
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Good Mother, every one could say,
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come quickly home again.
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Three Miles this Woman went
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unto the Market town,
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And for five shilling she did sell
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her Coat and Russet Gown.
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Who being glad in heart,
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to Market straight she hies,
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But there alas her purse was cut,
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e're any Corn she buys.
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She cryeth out, God knows,
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she weeps and makes great moan
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To every one that passeth by,
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her grief she makes it known.
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But yet behold and see,
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here in her woful case,
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Her husbands brother he was one
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that sold Corn in that place.
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This woeful woman then,
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did him desire and pray,
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To trust her with one sack of corn,
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till the next Market-day.
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But he denies her flat,
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and thus he tells her plain,
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I shall not have to serve my turn,
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till Corn do come again.
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More heed you might have took,
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unto your purse said he,
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And not to loose your money here,
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so fond and foolishly.
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This dogged answer cut
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this poor soul to the heart,
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Especially when she did think
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upon her Infants smart.
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Who sits and strives at home,
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poor souls, but all in vain
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which of them should the bigest piece
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of bread and butter gain.
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But far alas, they were
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from butter, bread, or cheese,
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Or any thing to comfort them,
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that their poor Mother sees.
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But now behold Gods work,
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as homeward she return'd,
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A Bakers boy gave her a Loaf
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which was in baking burn'd.
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She gave God thanks for that,
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and joyful in her hand,
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She bears the bread home to her babes
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which waiting for her stand.
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She kisses them each one,
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and with a chearful look,
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And said, we will to supper go,
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when you have said your book.
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Mean time she makes a Fire,
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and apples therein throws,
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The widdow & her seven Children,
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to Supper sweetly goes.
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The Apples roasted well,
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and she doth cut them bread,
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On every piece most lovingly,
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she doth the Apple spread.
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Instead of Drink, she had
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a cup of Water clear,
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And every Child rejoyced much,
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and said here is good chear.
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Behold when they had Supt,
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for God their Food did bless,
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When they had supt & were suffic'd,
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their Loaf was ne'r the less.
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For seven weeks space together,
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as storys plainly spread,
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The widdow and her seven children
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by this one Loaf was fed.
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The Cut-purse Man, I say,
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he broke his neck in Kent ,
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E're he of this poor widdows mony
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one single penny had spent.
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And yet behold and see,
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her husbands churlish brother,
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That would not trust a peck of corn
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her children for to succour.
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And straightway after this,
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his corn was washt away,
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All by a mighty Flood that came,
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before the break of day.
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The Gentlemen, and such,
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that did this wonder see,
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Unto this widdow gave such gifts,
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that ne'r more wanted she.
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And now good people all,
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you here may plainly see,
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Gods servants are not forsaken quite
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Gods mercies is to them free.
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FINIS .
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