ENGLAND'S MERCIES In the Midst of Miseries.  
OR, The Poor-Man's Comfort in a Time of Trouble.  
To the Tune of, Packington's; Pound, OR, Digbys farewell.  
Entered according to Order.  

England.   

POor England thy sorrows this many a year,  
Has caused in thy mind a suspicion of fear,  
Dreading that thou shoulded be brought very low,  
But be of good comfort it may not be so:  
We have a good God that still doth provide,  
If we do but serve him he will be our guide;  
We need not to fear that our Foes can devour  
They can do no mo●e then the Lord gives them power   

What though the times they be never so bad,  
Yet be of good comfort and look not so sad,  
For every sorrow will sure have an end;  
If thou dost endeavour to make him thy friend:  
Who certainly will provide for the just  
untroubles and sorrows tho● s●i●l shalt be blest:  
Thou needest not to fear the fierce rage of thy foes  
Nor yet in the least to be discomposed.   

Every morsel of bread thou dost eat,  
If thou art contented be sure it is sweet;  
'Tis better to thee then the Miser's great store,  
Though he hath abundance yet still he is po●r:  
His covetous heart is his Heaven for Gold  
And's never at quiet though he doth behold  
A sufficient supply for many a year,  
Y●t he is possessed with a poverty fear.   

Why should we encumber ourselves with such care  
To distract our wits or to live in d●spair,  
What though thy condition be never so mean,  
If there be content, there will com●ort be seen:  
'Tis certain we have not long for to stay,  
Death doth approach, and our lives doth decay,  
Then blessed is he that doth lie down in pe●ce,  
H●s sorrows d●th end, and his joys will increase.   

Why should we d●strust in his Mercies at all,  
We see that his bountiful hand is to all,  
We find that he hath a regard to the poor,  
And feeds them with Bread from a plentiful store:  
What though thou art cast into Prison for debt,  
Yet be of good cheer, in the least do not fret;  
For thou shalt have food for to nourish thy life,  
And God will provide for thy Children and wife:   

Some men are complaining that trading is dead,  
But blessed be God there is plenty of bread,  
The earth in abundance brings forth her increase,  
Can we be but thankful, and rest here in peace:  
We have no just cause to grieve and repine,  
Rely upon him who is so divine,  
For sure he is able always to provide,  
For thee and for me, and the whole world bestde.   

Great persons that go so gallant and fine,  
That hath in their pockets great plenty of Coin,  
Yet still they have troubles we daily do see,  
On this side the Grave there is no man is free:  
An extravagant Son may waste an estate,  
Which may to his Father much sorrow create,  
There is this way and likewise many ways more,  
That rich men hath troubles as well as the poor.   

Then let us prepare for the hour of death,  
'tis certain we must surrender our breath,  
For whether thou art prepared or no,  
Death will thee arrest, thou must certainly go,  
Then set not thy heart on things here below,  
For riches doth often thy mind overthrow,  
For better it is to live mean and upright,  
Then to have great plenty to ruin us quite.   

Alas in this life there is trouble and pain,  
Let's keep a good conscience that we may obtain  
The true joys of Heaven, likewise perfect peace,  
And then all the cares of the world it will cease:  
That man that doth live and die in the Lord,  
Shall certainly then receive his reward,  
For Death shall appear like a stingless friend,  
And lead him to joys which shall never have end.   

All you that have heard these words now of me,  
I wish they may prove an advantage to thee:  
To bear us thy Spirits in sorrow and care,  
And keep thee from every thought of despair:  
Then may we have comfort and joy to the end,  
As knowing that God will still he our friend,  
For he in his mercies will still us defend,  
And be our safeguard even to our lives end.   

This may be Printed,  
R. L S.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel without Newgate.