With sick and famished eyes, With doubling knees, and weary bones, To thee my cries, To thee my groans, to thee my sighs, my tears ascend: No end? My throat, my soul is hoarse; My heart is wither'd like a ground Which thou dost curse; My thoughts turn round And make me giddy: Lord, I fall, Yet call. Bowels of pity hear! Lord of my soul, love of my mind, Bow down thine ear! Let not the wind Scatter my words, and in the same Thy name! Look on my sorrows round; Mark well my furnace! O what flames, What heats abound! What griefs, what shames! Consider, Lord; Lord, bow thine ear, And hear! Lord Jesu, thou didst bow Thy dying head upon the tree; O be not now More dead to me! Lord, hear! Shall he that made the ear Not hear? Behold! Thy dust doth stir, It moves, it creeps to thee; Do not defer To succour me, Thy pile of dust wherein each crumb Says "Come". My love, my sweetness, hear! By these thy feet, at which my heart Lies all the year, Pluck out thy dart, And heal my troubled breast, which cries, Which dies.
- by George Herbert (1593 - 1633) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Henry Purcell (1658/9 - 1695), "With sick and famish'd eyes", Z. 200 (1680?-3). [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Athony Burton
This text was added to the website: 2011-03-30
Line count: 43
Word count: 199