Deliverance From A Fit Of Fainting

By Anne Bradstreet

    Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise,
    But ah! It’s not in me.
    My sinking heart I pray Thee raise
    So shall I give it Thee.

    My life as spider’s webb’s cut off,
    Thus fainting have I said,
    And living man no more shall see
    But be in silence laid.

    My feeble spirit Thou didst revive,
    My doubting Thou didst chide,
    And though as dead mad’st me alive,
    I here a while might ‘bide.

    Why should I live but to Thy praise?
    My life is hid with Thee.
    O Lord, no longer be my days
    Than I may fruitful be.

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