Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/In Fetteresso Churchyard ("Pain was my portion…")

IN FETTERESSO CHURCHYARD.

Pain was my portion,
Physic was my food;
Sighs were my devotion;
Drugs did me no good:

Till Christ my Redeemer,
Who knows what is best;
To ease me of my pain,
Has taken me to my rest.