| |
| TO myne humble supplication, | |
| Lord, give eare and acceptation: | |
| Heare me now so weake, so poore, | |
| That, ah! I can beare no more. | |
| |
| Save my soule which thou didst cherish | 5 |
| Vntill now, now like to perish; | |
| Save thy seruant, that hath none | |
| Help nor hope but thee alone. | |
| |
| After thy sweet wonted fashion, | |
| Shower downe mercie and compassion | 10 |
| On me, sinfull wretch, that crie | |
| Vnto thee vncessantly. | |
| |
| Send, oh send relieuing gladnes | |
| To my soule opprest with sadnes; | |
| Which, from clog of earth set free, | 15 |
| Wing’d with zeale flyes vp to thee: | |
| |
| To thee, rich in mercies’ treasure, | |
| And in goodnes without measure, | |
| Neuer fayling help to those | |
| Who on thy sure help repose. | 20 |
| |
| Let thine eares, which long haue tarried | |
| Barred up, be now vnbarred, | |
| That my cries may entraunce gayne, | |
| And being entred, grace obtayne. | |
| |
| As I haue, so will I ever, | 25 |
| In my stormy times perséver | |
| Vnto thee to pray and crie, | |
| For thou hear’st me instantly: | |
| |
| No God els is comparable | |
| Vnto thee; none els is able | 30 |
| Once to counterfeyt but one | |
| Of the workes which thou hast done. | |
| |
| Nations all thy hands did fashion; | |
| And of this round globe each nation | |
| With bow’d knees shall come before | 35 |
| Thee, and thy great name adore. | |
| |
| For, thou darter of dread thunders, | |
| Thou art great, and workest wonders: | |
| Other gods are wood and stone, | |
| Thou the living God alone. | 40 |
| |
| Heauenly tutor, of thy kindnes, | |
| Teach my dulnes, guid my blindnes, | |
| That my steps thy pathes may tread, | |
| Which to endles blisse doe lead. | |
| |
| In knotts, to be loosed never, | 45 |
| Knitt my heart to thee for ever, | |
| That I to thy name may beare | |
| Fearfull loue and louing feare. | |
| |
| Lord, my God, thou shalt be praised, | |
| With my heart to heauen raised; | 50 |
| And whilst I haue breath to liue, | |
| Thancks to thee my breath shall giue. | |
| |
| For when justice I deserued, | |
| Thy sweet mercie me preserued, | |
| Rescuing me from death’s sharp clawes, | 55 |
| And the grave’s all-swallowing jawes. | |
| |
| Mightie men, with mallice endles, | |
| Band against me, helples, friendles; | |
| Vsing, without feare of thee, | |
| Force and fraud to ruyne me. | 60 |
| |
| But thy might their mallice passes, | |
| And thy grace thy might surpasses; | |
| Swift to mercie, slow to wrath, | |
| Bound nor end thy goodnes hath. | |
| |
| Thy kind looke no more deny me, | 65 |
| But with eies of mercie eie me: | |
| Oh give me, thy slave, at length | |
| Easing aid, or bearing strength. | |
| |
| And some gratious token show me, | |
| That my foes, that watch to orethrow me, | 70 |
| May be sham’d and vex’d to see | |
| Thee to help and comfort me. | |
| |
