The Kentish WONDER:
BEING
A true Relation how a poor distressed Widow, in the Wild of Kent, was by
the Providence of the Almighty, miraculously preserved in her Necessity, so that she
and seven small Children lived seven Weeks upon a burnt six-penny Loaf of Bread,
and yet it never decreased; to the great Wonder of all that hear it, and the Praise of
the Almighty, who never forsakes them who put their trust in him.
To the Tune of, Aim not too high.
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YOu faithful Christians whereso'er you be,
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Trust still in God and you shall surely see,
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In faithful service he doth take delight,
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And you shall never be forsaken quite.
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And you that do desire the truth to hear,
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Mind well my ditty, and to me give ear,
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A woeful story I'll to you relate,
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Of a poor Widow's sad and dismal fate:
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Her Husband dead, she in great want did fall,
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And little had to keep herself withal;
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Seven Babes, poor Soul, she had to keep beside,
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And knew not how she should for them provide.
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She diligently labour'd night and day,
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Her Charge to keep, and some small depts to pay;
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And oftentimes for bread her goods did pawn,
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Till at the last, poor Creature, all was gone.
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Her Children dear to her did cry for bread,
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Who nothing had to put into her head;
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And as her Children for relief did cry,
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She sent up prayers unto the God on high:
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O God, quoth she, most righteous, good and just,
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Regard my cry, that in thee put my trust,
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Look down on me with a most gracious eye,
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That now with want am ready for to die.
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Thou to Elias gracious wer't indeed,
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And in his want sent ravens him to feed;
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Take pitty then upon my Children small,
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And send me food to feed them therewithal.
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We in the scriptures oftentimes do read,
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How with five loaves thou didst five thousand feed,
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And when of hunger they were quite bereft,
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Of scraps and fragments were twelve baskets left.
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I know, quoth she, thy power is still the same,
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And still will call upon thy mighty name,
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In hopes that thou at last will prove my Friend,
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And so, poor Soul, she did her prayers end.
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Oh Mother dear, her Children then did say,
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Give us some bread, we have had none to day;
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I am half starv'd says one, and I said t'other,
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Thus did they cry unto their careful Mother.
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She hearing this, unto her Children said,
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At night, my Babes, you shall be fill'd with bread;
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And with these words she did her Babes content,
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So she, poor Wretch, unto the market went.
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Her very coat she from her back did sell
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For five poor shillings, as is known full well;
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But mark how this poor Soul was strangely crost,
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Her purse was cut, and all her mony lost.
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Which being mist, she cry'd and made great moan,
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And to the Passengers she made it known,
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Who little minded her so fill'd with grief,
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And nothing would allow to her relief.
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Unto her Husband's Brother then she went,
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And her condition there did much lament,
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Desiring him to trust her, and did say,
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That she would pay him the next market day.
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Of this her expectation she did fail,
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For prayers nor tears with him would then prevail,
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He said that he had but small store of grain,
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Which would not serve till corn did come again.
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This dogged answer cut her to the heart,
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And mournfully from him she did depart,
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The thoughs of her poor Babes did pierce her soul,
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And her condition she did much condole.
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These pretty Babes did keep a mighty clutter,
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Which of them all should have most bread & butte[r]
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But she fell short of butter, bread, and cheese,
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And none could get their hungers to appease.
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But mark how Providence did still provide,
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And by meer chance her wants they were supply,
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A Baker's Boy, as homeward she return'd,
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Gave her a loaf which was a little burn'd.
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And joyfully she did the same receive,
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The Baker's Boy she many thanks did give;
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And homewards then she went immediately,
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Who did rejoyce their Mother for to see.
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She kist them all, and with a chearful look,
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Did bid her Children for to read their book,
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And when, my Children dear, you have done so,
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Most lovingly we will to supper go.
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Some apples then she laid unto the fire,
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Which she, poor Soul, long time had saved by her
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Of which they from the biggest to the least,
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With their dear Mother then did make a feast.
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Poor Souls, they then instead of ale and beer,
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Were all contented with some water clear,
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And were rejoyced at this feast so great,
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For they before had little for to eat.
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Behold how God these thankful Souls did bless,
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When they had supp'd the loaf was ne'r the less;
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For seven weeks space upon this loaf they fed,
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And yet perceiv'd no lessening of their bread.
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And e're the Cut-purse had her mony spent,
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This thieving Rogue did break his nec[k] in Kent
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Her Husband's Brother that refus'd to trust,
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Was punished by heavenly power most just.
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For, in one night, as several People say,
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His corn was by the floods all wash'd away,
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And Gentlemen that did this Wonder see,
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Reliev'd this Widow's wants most plenteously.
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Good People all do now behold and see,
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Who trust in God they shall relieved be,
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Tho' they but little have to live upon,
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He'll send them more when their small stocks are gone
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