Deliverance from a Fit of Fainting

By Anne Bradstreet

Worthy art Thou, O Lord, of praise,

But ah! It's not in me.

My sinking heart I pray Thee raise

So shall I give it Thee.

My life as spider's webb's cut off,

Thus fainting have I said,

And living man no more shall see

But be in silence laid.

My feeble spirit Thou didst revive,

My doubting Thou didst chide,

And though as dead mad'st me alive,

I here a while might 'bide.

Why should I live but to Thy praise?

My life is hid with Thee.

O Lord, no longer be my days

Than I may fruitful be.