William Tompson, anagram 1:
lo, now I am past ill.
Why wepe yea still for me, my Children dear?
What Cause have ye of sorow, grief or fear?
Lo, now all evill things are past and gone,
Terror, black Coller & strangullion;
My pains are Curd, no greif doth me anoy,
My sorrows all are turned in to joy.
No fiend of hell shall hence forth me asay,
My fears are heald, my teares are wipt away;
Gods reconciled face I now behould,
He that dispersd my darkness many fold;
In Abrams bosom now I swetely rest,
Of perfect joy & hapiness posest.
William Tompson, Anagram 2:
now I am slipt home.
Fowr years twice tould I dwelt in darkest Cell,
In Cruell bonds of melloncholy bound.
I surely thought I was in lowest hell;
Much pain & grife, but no releif, I found.
But now throw grace my weighty Chain is loosd,
God hath returnd my long Captivity;
My weary soul, that Comfort oft refusd,
This day is set at perfect liberty;
And now I dwell at home with Christ, my lord,
With robes of righteousness most richly Clad;
With rarest pleasures the highest heavens aford,
Feasted, refresh’d, beyond experienc glad.
by Samuel Danforth, 1666