O Lord to thee is all my trust,
give eare unto my wofull cry:
Refuse me not that am unjust,
but bowing down thy heavenly eye:
Behold how I do still lament
my sinnes wherein I do offend:
O Lord for them shall I be shent,
sith thee to please I do intend.
No, no, not for thy will is bent,
to deale with sinners in thine ire:
But when in heart they shall repent,
thou grantst with speed their just desire,
To thee therefore still shall I crie,
to wash away my sinfull crime:
Thy bloud O Lord is not yet drie,
but that it may help me in time.
Haste thee o Lord, haste thee I say,
to poure on me thy gifts of grace:
That when this life shall flit away,
in heaven with thee I may have place:
Where thou dost raigne eternally,
with God which once did down thee send
Where Angels sing continually,
to thee be praise world without end.