The Distressed Pilgrim,
Who being in much Misery,
He serves the Lord most faitfully:
And repenteth for the things are past,
And prayes for a Heavenly place at last.
The Tune is, Who can blame my Woe; Or, I am a Jovial Batchelor.
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I Am a Pilgrim poor and bare,
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in trouble I am crost,
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And many a hard hap falls my share;
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my Substance all is lost:
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My misery ther's no man knows,
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so numberless they be;
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Yet in the midst of all my Woes,
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Let Patience work for me.
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Pray understand, I once had Land,
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with Corn and Cattle store,
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But now 'tis gone out of my hand,
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i'm grown exceeding poor;
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So poor indeed, ther's few that will
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relieve my misery:
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But as I said before, so I say still,
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let, etc.
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My flattering Friends and Kinsfolks all,
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whom I did dayly feed,
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Will not so much as turn aside,
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to help my extream need,
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They'd rather seek to scoff and scorn,
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and jeer my Poverty;
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Although I am as one forlorn,
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let, etc.
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Patience is an Herb of Grace,
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if a Man doth use it well,
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'Twill lay a Stomach in short space
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that doth with Poyson swell;
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'Twill cure a Mad-man of his Evil,
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cause the Blind to see,
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It will expel and vanquish th' Devil;
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let, etc.
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NOw in the midst of all my Woes,
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what shall I do or say?
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Shall I despair in any case,
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or make myself away?
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No, no, not while this Vital Breath,
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which the Lord God lended me;
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Come Woe or Wealth, come Life or Death;
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For a patient man I'le be.
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As I do wander up and down
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in sorrow, I am crost;
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From Place to Place, from Town to Town,
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my Substance is all lost:
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But yet I think within myself,
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as I shall tell to ye,
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Though God hath taken all my Wealth,
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yet patience works for me.
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Give not your Friends and Kinsfolks ne'r
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your means while you do live;
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For that hath brought me to this care:
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which makes my heart to grieve:
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I gave them Goods and Cattle too,
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as all my Neighbours see;
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But now they don't regard my woe,
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yet, etc.
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The Devil he is busie still,
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to bring me to his Bow;
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But it is Gods blessed Will,
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patience doth with me go,
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And keeps me in the Fear of God,
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for a second Job to be;
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Although I tast of's Holy Rod,
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yet, etc.
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For to despair, it's a Foolishness,
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God that is my stay,
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Who gave me Life, and when he please
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can take again away.
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The Lord he suffer'd for my sins,
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as th' Scripture sheweth me;
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God give me Grace to think on it,
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and patience, etc.
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Though i'm in want and misery,
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I hope God will be pleas'd
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For to release this slavery,
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in Heaven for to be eas'd:
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'Tis the bravest thing i'th World
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to suffer then I see;
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And though i'm poor and in distress,
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yet, etc.
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I hope my steadfast Faith is so,
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i'le not forsake my God;
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Though Poverty hath brought me low,
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i'le not forsake his Word.
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It's for sins I do confess,
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he suffered on the Tree,
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To Release poor Sinners from redress,
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and eke from misery.
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And now adieu unto the World,
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with all my sorrows that are past,
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And give every one Grace in the end
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to enjoy a Heavenly Rest:
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Because all things do fade away,
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and vanish we do see,
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God give us all his Grace I say,
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to be Patient in misery.
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