Let not mishap deprive you of that hope
Which yields some relish to your discontent;
Ayme your affections at Heaven's glorious scope,
Which shovvres downe comfort, when all comfort's spent:
Then rest secure ; that Power which you adore
Will make your joyes more full than ere before.

Let not the sunne, now shadowed with a cloud,
Make you suspect the sunne will never shine;
That ill which now seems ill, may once prove good:
Time betters that which was depravde by time.
Thus let my prayers, your teares, concord in one, [comfort's gone.
To reape heav'n's comforts, when earth's