| |
| THOUGH 1 late, my heart, yet turne at last, | |
| And shape thy course another way; | |
| ’Tis better lose thy labour past, | |
| Then follow on to sure decay: | |
| What though thou long haue straid awry? | 5 |
| In hope of grace for mercy cry. | |
| |
| Though weight of sinne doth presse thee downe, | |
| And keepe thee grou’ling on the ground; | |
| Though blacke dispaire with angry frowne | |
| Thy wit and judgment quite confound; | 10 |
| Though time and wit haue beene mispent, | |
| Yet grace is left, if thou repent. | |
| |
| Weepe then, my heart, weepe still, and still; | |
| Nay, melt to floods of flowing teares; | |
| Send out such shrikes as heauen may fill, | 15 |
| And pierce thine angry Judge’s eares: | |
| And let thy soule, that harbours sin, | |
| Bleed streames of bloud to drowne it in. | |
| |
| Then shall thine angry Judge’s face | |
| To cheereful lookes itselfe apply; | 20 |
| Then shall thy soule be fild with grace, | |
| And feare of death constraind to fly: | |
| Euen so, my God! oh, when? how long? | |
| I would, but sinne is too, too strong. | |
| |
| I striue to rise,—sinne keepes me downe; | 25 |
| I fly from sinne,—sinne followes me: | |
| My will doth reach at glorie’s crowne; | |
| Weake is my strength, it will not be: | |
| See how my fainting soule doth pant! | |
| O let thy strength supply my want. | 30 |
