Lord! should the sunne, the clowds, the winde, <br />The ayre and seasons be <br />To vs so froward unkind, <br />As we are false to thee, <br />All fruites would quite away be burn'd, <br />Or lye in water drown'd, <br />Or blasted be, or ouerturn'd, <br />Or chilled on the ground. <br /> <br />But from our duty though we swarue, <br />Thou still dost mercy shew, <br />And daign thy creatures to preserue, <br />That men might thankfull grow; <br />Yet though from day to day we sinne, <br />And thy displeasure gaine, <br />No sooner we to cry beginne, <br />But pitty we obtaine. <br /> <br />The weather now thou changed hast <br />That put vs late to feare, <br />And when our hopes were almost past, <br />Then comfort did appeare; <br />The heauen the earth's complaints hath heard, <br />They reconciled be, <br />And thou such weather hast prepar'd <br />As we desired of thee. <br /> <br />For which, with lifted hands and eyes, <br />To thee we doe repay <br />The due and willing sacrifice <br />Of giving thanks to-day; <br />Because such offrings we should not <br />To render thee be slowe, <br />Nor let thy mercie be forgot, <br />Which thou art pleased to showe.<br /><br />George Wither<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-seasonable-weather/
