The Song of the Sithe

O My Long-suffering Lord, I own,
And thy rich Patience praise;
The Mower , he has not cut me down;
I stand; O wondrous Grace !

I wait, O of my Life the GOD !
I'm waiting for the Stroke.
I see the Mower: He's on the Road;
Soon, soon , I'am overtook!

O that I were in Safety got;
That what I can't Evade
I may with Comfort meet, and not
Be of the Sithe afraid.

I do with a Repenting Heart
To thee, my GOD, Return;
From all my Idols I depart,
And for my Follies mourn.

To Thee, my SAVIOUR, I Resign,
All that belongs to me;
Willing to be entirely Thine ,
And Heal'd and Rul'd by Thee.

By Thee to be Redeem'd, and made
Righteous and Holy too;
And by thy Counsil to be led,
Thy endless Glory to.

Now, Welcome Sithe; Come, Do thy worst;
Strike; Thou canst do no more,
But fit me to be Lodg'd, I trust,
In my GOD's Blessed Floor.
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