John Betjeman

An Eighteenth-Century
      Calvinistic Hymn

Thank God my Afflictions are such
    That I cannot lie down on my Bed,
And if I but take to my Couch
    I incessantly Vomit and Bleed.

I am not too sure of my Worth,
    Indeed it is tall as a Palm;
But what Fruits can it ever bring forth
    When Leprosy sits at the Helm?

Though Torment's the Soul's Goal's Rewards
    The contrary's Proof of my Guilt,
While Dancing, Backgammon and Cards,
    Are among the worst Symptoms I've felt.

Oh! I bless the good Lord for my Boils
    For my mental and bodily pains,
For without them my Faith all congeals
    And I'm doomed to HELL'S NE'ER-ENDING FLAMES.