To God

Make, make me Thine, my gracious God,

Or with Thy staffe, or with Thy rod;

And be the blow too what it will.

Lord, I will kisse it, though it kill:

Beat me, bruise me, rack me, rend me,

Yet, in torments, I'le commend Thee:

Examine me with fire, and prove me

To the full, yet I will love Thee:

Nor shalt Thou give so deep a wound,

But I as patient will be found.