God's Hands.

God, when He takes my goods and chattels hence,
Gives me a portion, giving patience:
What is in God is God; if so it be
He patience gives, He gives Himself to me.

God has a right hand, but is quite bereft
Of that which we do nominate the left.

In vain our labours are whatsoe'er they be,
Unless God gives the benedicite.

God is all sufferance here; here He doth show
No arrow nockt, only a stringless bow:
His arrows fly, and all His stones are hurl'd
Against the wicked in another world.

God, as He's potent, so He's likewise known
To give us more than hope can fix upon.

As my little pot doth boil,
We will keep this level-coil,
That a wave and I will bring
To my God a heave-offering.