Joseph's Coat

    Wounded I sing, tormented I indite,

Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest:

Sorrow hath chang'd its note: such is his will

Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best.

    For well he knows, if but one grief and smart

Among my many had his full career,

Sure it would carrie with it ev'n my heart,

And both would runne until they found a biere

    To fetch the bodie; both being due to grief.

But he hath spoil'd the race; and giv'n to anguish

One of Joyes coats, ticing it with relief

To linger in me, and together languish.

    I live to shew his power, who once did bring

    My

joyes

to

weep

, and now my

griefs

to

sing.