Shall thy great wonders in the dark, or shall thy righteousness Be known to any in the land of deep forgetfulness?
For th' en'my hath pursu'd my soul, my life to ground down tread: In darkness he hath made me dwell, as who have long been dead.
Ev'n free among the dead, like them that slain in grave do lie; Cut off from thy hand, whom no more thou hast in memory.
Ev'n so I am forgot, As men are out of mind when dead: I'm like a broken pot.