In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow neer I did not look,
I waken’d was with thundring nois
And Piteous shrieks of dreadfull voice.
That fearful sound of fire and fire,
Let no man know is my Desire.
I, starting up, the light did spye,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my Distresse
And not to leave me succourlesse.
Then coming out beheld a space,
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And, when I could no longer look,
I blest his Name that gave and took,
That layd my goods now in the dust:
Yea so it was, and so ’twas just.
It was his own: it was

Praise the Lord

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