Litanie XV

From being anxious, or secure,

Dead clods of sadness, or light squibs of mirth,

From thinking that great courts immure

All, or no happiness, or that this earth

Is only for our prison framed,

Or that Thou'rt covetous

To them whom Thou lovest, or that they are maim'd

From reaching this world's sweet who seek Thee thus,

With all their might, good Lord, deliver us.