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| O GRACIOUS 1 God and heauenly Father deere, | |
| Which hast created all thinges that are seene, | |
| Whose mighty power is knowne both far and neere, | |
| Through thy great workes the heaven and earth betweene: | |
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| So that no man by ignorance can frame | 5 |
| To make excuse he hath not known thy might, | |
| For all thy creatures do declare the same; | |
| In them of thee we may have perfit sight. | |
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| But I, a wretch that here doth prostrate lye, | |
| Have knowne thy word, yet not obeyed the same; | 10 |
| So that to heaven I dare not lyft my eye, | |
| Because my sinnes doth make me shrinke for shame. | |
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| Wherefore I come to thee with quaking hart, | |
| With trembling conscience, so dismayed for sinne; | |
| Desiring thee with teares to ease my smart, | 15 |
| That I the taste of mercye sweete may winne. | |
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| My wounded soule dooth seeke thy precious grace, | |
| To serue for salue of my distressed mind: | |
| O let my prayers pearce thy holy place, | |
| And heare my cryes, O gracious God most kinde. | 20 |
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| I dare not lift myne eyes unto thy throne, | |
| Thy glory shineth in such wondrous wise: | |
| Thy brightnesse eke to cherubines is knowne, | |
| Whose majesty dooth dim their dazeled eyes. | |
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| When how can I, a synful creature formde, | 25 |
| Present my selfe thy mercy to obtaine; | |
| Whose syns dooth more then seaish sands abounde, | |
| Or all the stars that in the heauens remaine? | |
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| For I have broke the promise that I made, | |
| When as I was baptised in thy name: | 30 |
| So that, alas! my hart is sore afrayde | |
| Least thy just judgements damne me for the same. | |
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| I dyd protest to fyght against my flesh, | |
| And to subdue my earthly Adam olde; | |
| Yet like the dog I run to it afresh, | 35 |
| And greedyly I take thereof fast holde. | |
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| I promised the world for to subdue, | |
| Whose wanton wyles with wickednesse is fyl’d: | |
| Yet like a wretch I egerly pursue | |
| Such vanities as he therein hath wil’d. | 40 |
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| I vowed eke to foyle my deadly foe, | |
| That subtil Sathan, enemy of grace; | |
| Yet have I yeelded like a coward thoe, | |
| And followed his pleasures vaine like case. | |
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| Yea, every day I seeke to clime to thee, | 45 |
| And yet, alas! my weaknesse makes me fall | |
| Wherefore I wish that death would set me free, | |
| That I through faith might fynde redresse of all: | |
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| Which maketh me that I durst not approche | |
| Unto thy presence to obtaine releese: | 50 |
| Dear’t but throw Christ thy mercy I incroche, | |
| With hope in him to get release of greefe; | |
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| Who by the fountain of his precious blood | |
| Hath washt away the fylth of my offence; | |
| Whose gushing streames like to a river stoode, | 55 |
| To clense my soule defylde by lewd pretence. | |
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| He paid the ransome of my faults most vyle | |
| With bitter death, for me which was his foe: | |
| Yea, heare on earth he lived in much raile, | |
| That I might gaine the place where grace doth growe. | 60 |
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| Wherefore to Him I will for pardon flye, | |
| And crave release of my offences past; | |
| So doo I knowe he will me not denye, | |
| And graunt his mercy unto me at last. | |
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| Wherefore I crave, O heavenly Father mine, | 65 |
| For thy Sonne’s sake vouchsafe my soule to save, | |
| And unto me thy gracious ears incline, | |
| That in his blood doo pardon boldly crave. | |
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| Forgive me all th’ offences of my youth, | |
| And graunt to me the comfort of thy Spright: | 70 |
| Have pittie, Lorde, and turne to me thy rueth; | |
| So shall my soule in thee for aye delight. | |
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| Wipe out my synnes of thy remembrance, Lorde, | |
| And place my name within thy booke of life: | |
| O make my hart to thee alwayes accorde, | 75 |
| That this my conscience may be free from strife. | |
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| Make me a veasell to thy gloryous will, | |
| For to possesse a place of heavenly joyes: | |
| So shall I laude and spred thy glory still, | |
| And scape thy dainger that the soule destroyes. | 80 |
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| Graunt this, good Lord, for Jesus Christe’s sake, | |
| To whom with thee, and thy Eternall Spright, | |
| Which persones three one perfyt God doo make, | |
| Be lasting laude, as it belonges aright. | |
