Chapter XXIV: Experience

(IN IMITATION OF A FAVOURITE WELSH MEASURE.)

Sweet, sweet,
It is with thine, my God, to meet,
And lay our burdens at Thy feet:
False passion's heat from thence departs;
Our weary hearts before Thee rest,
And by thee blessed forget their smarts.

Far, far,
From me my comrades in the war,
And this doth much my courage mar:
Haste in thy car of strength, O Lord!
With thine own sword my foes confound:
Then all the year round I'll trust thy word.