Affliction (II)

KIll me not ev'ry day,Thou Lord of life; since thy one death for meIs more then all my deaths can be,Though I in broken payDie over each houre of Methusalems stay.

If all mens tears were letInto one common sewer, sea, and brine;What were they all, compar'd to thine?Wherein if they were set,They would discolour thy most bloudie sweat.

Thou art my grief alone,Thou Lord conceal it not: and as thou artAll my delight, so all my smart:Thy crosse took up in one,By way of imprest, all my future mone.