Psalm

Broken in pieces all asunder,
Lord, hunt me not,
A thing forgot,
Once a poor creature, now a wonder,
A wonder tortured in the space
Between this world and that of grace.


My thoughts are all a case of knives,
Wounding my heart,
With scattered smart,
As watering pots give flowers their lives.
Nothing ther fury can control,
While they wound and prick my soul.


O help, my God! Let not their plot
Kill them and me
And also thee,
Who art my life: dissolve the knot,
As the sun scatters by his light
All the rebellions of the night.


Then shall those powers, which work or grief,
Enter thy pay,
And day by day,
Labor thy praise, and my relief:
With care and courage building me,
Until i reach heaven, and much more, thee.