 | Small poems of Divers sorts |  |
Song 21.
[Ah me! I have sinned so]
1
Ah me! I have sinned so,That the thought of it is my woe;
That my eyes
To the skyes,
Nor my prayer
Neither dare
I to lift, but here mourn below.
What therefore, had I best here to sit,
And lament for my faults in unfit
Sorrow? no;
Who doth so,
Spends his fears,
And his tears
All in vain any mercy to get.
2
My soul, mount thou then aloft,And beseech him tha'st angred so oft:
He easily can
Pardon man,
Being inclin'd
To be kind
With real contrition, and soft.
284
Exceed all the stars in our view;
Do overcome
Motes it'h Sun,
And surpass
Blades of grass?
His merits do exceed all these too.
3
His mercies exceed all these,And all sins wherewith men him displease:
Every sigh
He did give,
Every wound
That is found
On his body could a world release.
And therefore for shame if not for love,
(Yet love is all fear and shame above)
Let us shun
Hell, and run
In heavens way,
Whiles t'is day;
For from thence is no sad remove.
| Small poems of Divers sorts | |