Bee Patient in Trouble:
OR, The Patient mans Counsell, wherein is showne the great goodnes of God towards them that beare the Crosses and Afflictions of this World pati­ently: As also a friendly instruction, whereby to advise us to forsake our wonted sinnes, and turne unto the Lord by speedy repentance, very meete and necessary for Worldlings to marke, reade, heare, and make use of.

To the tune of, Bodkins Galliard.
[figure]
COme, come, you gréedy worldlings leave your toyle,
Lend me your approbation to my song:
For I like you was troubled for a while,
Bout worldly matters which have done me wrong:
Now to re [...]e that life I am inclind,
Ile give God thankes and take what I doe finde.
Though on this earth I live as one so poore,
That few or none regard [...] my company:
Yet hath the Lord a blessing still in store
For them that wait his leasure patiently:
Then let no men despaire though meanes be small,
But in affliction give God thankes for all.
When I remember Iob that was so just,
How he despised was of all his kin,
And how from Post to Piller he was tost,
And no man weighed his sorrowes not a pin:
Th [...]n unto memory I likewise call,
That he in troubles gave God thankes for all.
Although of riches once he had great store,
And was the chiefest man in all the East,
Yet was the Lords deare sarvant brought so poore,
And of his goods and Cattell dispossest:
Then patient Iob unto the Earth did fall,
And heartily did give God thankes for all.
Not onely all the wealth which he enjoyd
Was quite consum'd and tane from him away,
His Sons and Daughters likewise were destr [...]yd,
By a tempestuous weather fell that day,
The house in peices on their heads did fall,
And still poore Iob did give God thanks for all.
And further to increase his misery,
His Wife to him most wrathfully did say,
Husband quoth she curse God and yéeld to die,
O no said Iob, I know a better way,
Ile not offend my Heavenly makers will,
Ile prayse his name and be contented still.

The second part,

To the same tune.
[figure]
THus being comfortlesse upon the Earth,
His day of birth began to call to mind,
He also thought upon his houre of death,
And with great griefe those spéeches he assignd,
Naked Came I out of my Mothers Wombe,
Naked shall I returne unto my Tombe.
Thus Iob continued still so pure and holy,
As holy writers doth of him approve,
Whom all the World could not entice to folly,
For God lov'd Iob, and Iob his God did love.
And afterward the Lord his fortunes blest,
With farre more wealth than he before possest.
This swéet example may for great and small
Be a direction, how that we may guide
Our lives, when crosses doth to us befall,
That from these Precepts we may never slide:
Lord clothe us with that everlasting Robe,
True Faith and Patience like thy Servant Iob.
And grant that ever we may put our trust
In thée alone, which art our strength and stay,
Séeing, that earthly treasure is but dust,
Which soone will perish and consume away:
Let us desire our sinnes may be forgiven,
And every day prepare ourselves for Heaven.
This World is full of vaine deluding snares,
The Divell also layes many cunning baites
For to intrap our soules at unawares,
He useth many policies and sleights:
Iust cause have we to flie to Christ with spéed,
And crave his ayd in this our time of neede.
Moreover let us now with spéede forsake,
Our wonted sinnes wherein we take delight,
And of our lives and wayes a conscience make,
And learne to serve the Lord our God aright.
O let us not our time too long delay,
But put from us all wickednesse away.
Let the Blasphemer now foregoe his othes,
And bid the Drunkard leave his swilling Mates,
For God himselfe the sinne of sweating lothes,
And all good men a Drunkards presence hates;
Let foule Extortion now be put to flight,
And Malice quite be banisht out of sight.
Let Envie, Pride and vile Adultery,
And Murther, that fierce Monster part from hence,
Both Covetousnesse, and Prodigality,
No more be séene amongst our Eminence:
So will the Lord our Goods and Cattell blesse,
Our Land and all that ever we possesse.
Our Noble King the Father of our peace,
The Lord preserve and kéepe continually,
And send the Quéene and all their blest increase,
The dew of thy swéet blessing from on high:
So shall all English men rejoyce and sing,
Prayses be given to Christ our Heavenly King.
L. P.
FINIS.

Printed at London for Iohn Wright junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Baily.

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