"So week and feeble I am grown, / Wasted to nothing, ev'ry bone / Disjoynted, from its place doth start, / Like Wax dissolv'd so is my Heart."
— Chamberlayne, Sir James (c.1640-1699)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by R. E. for R. Bentley, and M. Magnes [etc.]
Date
1680
Metaphor
"So week and feeble I am grown, / Wasted to nothing, ev'ry bone / Disjoynted, from its place doth start, / Like Wax dissolv'd so is my Heart."
Metaphor in Context
But, Lord, their scorn and cruelty,
Shall not dismay or trouble me;
Since I have always found thine arm
Able to rescue me from harm;
Since from the Womb I came, alone
Thou hast been my Salvation;
And from my Mothers tender Breast,
My God, my hope wert, and my rest.
Now be not far from me, but save,
Permit not the triumphing Grave,
Insatiate as my cruel-Foes,
My Life untimely to enclose.
Redeem my Soul, there's none, I know,
Except my God, can help me now;
For I am close besieg'd, and brought
To that distress I can't get out.
Like as a rav'ning Lyon doth,
Roaring pursue with open mouth
The helpless Creature, that he may
Affrighted fall, and be his Prey;
So do my Foes threaten, and rave,
To bring my Soul unto the Grave.
So week and feeble I am grown,
Wasted to nothing, ev'ry bone
Disjoynted, from its place doth start,
Like Wax dissolv'd so is my Heart.
And as a Potsheard so my strength
Is dryed up, my Tongue at length
Cleaves to my Jaws, my earthly-Frame
Is now returning whence it came.
For the blood-thirsty have beset
And clos'd me round, my Hands and Feet
They have transfixt, distended on
The shameful Cross, I ev'ry Bone
Can truly count, as if I were
A Monster, they upon me stare.
And having got me in their Toyl,
They reckon all I have their Spoil.
They part my Garments, but the Lot
Is cast upon my seamless Coat;
Contented rather than it tear
The whole should go to one Mans share.
But be not far from me, O Lord,
My chiefest strength, thy help afford;
And from these bloody-Men set free
Thine only One, O rescue me!
And as in former time thine Ear
Hath open been unto my pray'r,
Be ready now my Life to save,
From the devouring Jaws o'th' Grave.
Then in the Congregation I
Will sing thy praise contin'ally,
And to thy Faithful there declare,
How great thy Love and Mercies are.
Ye Seed of Jacob spend your days
In Songs of Thanks, and hearty Praise,
For he hath not despis'd my Pray'r
When in Affliction, but his Ear
Hath been attentive, and his Face
He hath not vail'd in my disgrace.
All my discourses Lord shall be
Of these thy Favours shown to me;
My Vows within thine House I'le pay,
Among the Faithful, that they may
Joyn in Devotion, and each one
Send up their thanks unto thy Throne;
Remembring that in times of want
Thou evermore art pleas'd to grant
Unto the poor, when they do call,
Refreshments, to rejoyce them all.
Those Nations who thy Laws do scorn,
When they hear this, shall to thee turn,
And joyntly yield with one accord
To worship thee, as Supreme Lord,
For thou art Governour of all,
And all must to thy Footstool fall.
Those thou hast fill'd with good shall bow
And they who to the Pit do go,
Who none of all thy VVonders know,
Their Seed shall serve thee, they thy worth
And righteousness shall warble forth,
From age to age shall be made known
This that thou Lord for me hast done.
That all men may as well as I,
Confide in thee for Victory.
Shall not dismay or trouble me;
Since I have always found thine arm
Able to rescue me from harm;
Since from the Womb I came, alone
Thou hast been my Salvation;
And from my Mothers tender Breast,
My God, my hope wert, and my rest.
Now be not far from me, but save,
Permit not the triumphing Grave,
Insatiate as my cruel-Foes,
My Life untimely to enclose.
Redeem my Soul, there's none, I know,
Except my God, can help me now;
For I am close besieg'd, and brought
To that distress I can't get out.
Like as a rav'ning Lyon doth,
Roaring pursue with open mouth
The helpless Creature, that he may
Affrighted fall, and be his Prey;
So do my Foes threaten, and rave,
To bring my Soul unto the Grave.
So week and feeble I am grown,
Wasted to nothing, ev'ry bone
Disjoynted, from its place doth start,
Like Wax dissolv'd so is my Heart.
And as a Potsheard so my strength
Is dryed up, my Tongue at length
Cleaves to my Jaws, my earthly-Frame
Is now returning whence it came.
For the blood-thirsty have beset
And clos'd me round, my Hands and Feet
They have transfixt, distended on
The shameful Cross, I ev'ry Bone
Can truly count, as if I were
A Monster, they upon me stare.
And having got me in their Toyl,
They reckon all I have their Spoil.
They part my Garments, but the Lot
Is cast upon my seamless Coat;
Contented rather than it tear
The whole should go to one Mans share.
But be not far from me, O Lord,
My chiefest strength, thy help afford;
And from these bloody-Men set free
Thine only One, O rescue me!
And as in former time thine Ear
Hath open been unto my pray'r,
Be ready now my Life to save,
From the devouring Jaws o'th' Grave.
Then in the Congregation I
Will sing thy praise contin'ally,
And to thy Faithful there declare,
How great thy Love and Mercies are.
Ye Seed of Jacob spend your days
In Songs of Thanks, and hearty Praise,
For he hath not despis'd my Pray'r
When in Affliction, but his Ear
Hath been attentive, and his Face
He hath not vail'd in my disgrace.
All my discourses Lord shall be
Of these thy Favours shown to me;
My Vows within thine House I'le pay,
Among the Faithful, that they may
Joyn in Devotion, and each one
Send up their thanks unto thy Throne;
Remembring that in times of want
Thou evermore art pleas'd to grant
Unto the poor, when they do call,
Refreshments, to rejoyce them all.
Those Nations who thy Laws do scorn,
When they hear this, shall to thee turn,
And joyntly yield with one accord
To worship thee, as Supreme Lord,
For thou art Governour of all,
And all must to thy Footstool fall.
Those thou hast fill'd with good shall bow
And they who to the Pit do go,
Who none of all thy VVonders know,
Their Seed shall serve thee, they thy worth
And righteousness shall warble forth,
From age to age shall be made known
This that thou Lord for me hast done.
That all men may as well as I,
Confide in thee for Victory.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "wax" in HDIS (Poetry)
Theme
Psalm 22
Date of Entry
03/27/2005
Date of Review
02/21/2009
