The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule Set foorth by Sir William Leighton |
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| 3. | The third Lamentation in distresse. |
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 | The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule |  |
The third Lamentation in distresse.
Wherein is contained the hope, faith, and confidence of the distressed: whereby he relieth wholy vppon God, not trusting in the helpe of man, nor fearing any euill that mortall man can doe vnto him.
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I cannot Lord excuse my sinne,most infinite, before mine eies:
And many more are me within,
I haue forgot: which secret lies.
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which slightly I haue ouer past,as if they were no sinnes at all:
Thy wrath for them makes me agast,
to mercy I appeale for all.
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There's no man liuing at this houre,can satisfaction giue for me:
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of the least sinne to set me free.
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Who can rehearse or call to minde,what he hath don amisse before:
Who in his reckoning booke can finde,
his sinnes, that thou put'st on thy score
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If by my selfe I nothing knew,yet thou that see'st and iudgest all:
Can'st finde enough, both old & new,
yea there's enough in Adams fall.
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I haue no meane for to be freede,neither from wrath or miseries:
But by the wounds of Christ that bleede
and wash me from iniquities.
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Condempne me not, oh father deere,but in him haue compassion:
Though with thy rod thou beatest me heere,
yet graunt to mee saluation.
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And then in death I shalbe safe,by thy grace preseruation:
Thou wil't vphould me by thy staffe,
from hell and condemnation.
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Thou seem'st as if thou had'st me left,why art thou Lord so farre me fro:
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depriu'd of hope and wrapt in woe.
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Why turnest thou away thy face?I offering sacrifice to thee:
In prayers, praise vnto thy grace,
and thou no whit regardest mee.
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I onely put my trust in thee,oh come Lord, come, now at the last
Performe thy promises to mee,
remember not my sinnes bee past,
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Vaine is the hope in mortall man,weake is his arme, his heart not right:
No iustice, iudgement shew he can,
but thou art iust O Lord of might:
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Therefore I onely trust in thee,to thee I onely am inclin'd:
Let me not disappointed bee,
but let me now thy mercies finde.
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O Lord looke on my miseries,behould my troubles paine & griefe:
Who liuing in extremities
of life, am weakned in beliefe.
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Our fathers prayed with trust in thee,in dangers, out of troubles all:
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and were rais'd vp when they did fall.
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thou heardst thē, whē they thee sought& did'st them lend, thy ayding hands:
when they almost, to death were brought
and them deliuered out of bands.
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Great was thy fauour Lord to all,them that tooke hould of thee by faith
But what am I that am so small,
a worme, no man as Dauid saith.
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Yet I belieue, helpe vnbeliefe,Lord I am couered ouer with shame:
Be thou my glory, ease my griefe,
that I may magnifie thy name.
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The wicked worldlings me contempnebecause thou hid'st thy face from me:
Deriding grace and me condempne,
because of imbicillity.
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My neighbours that should me assist,disdaine me, my familiars all:
That should me comfort, do desist,
their helpe to raise me from my fall.
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They say of me my hopes are vaine,my kinsfolkes who should yeeld me ayde
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to come to mee they are afraid.
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And tauntingly they scoffe and say,deseruedly, he thus doth suffer:
Is iust, he wrought his owne decay,
none other kindenes they me offer.
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I know t'is thou that sitt'st on high,do'st send and suffer maladies:
And therefore I on thee rely,
to remedy my miseries.
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My woes O Lord by such increase,as should in friendly wise relieue me:
They that should seek to make my peace,
they are the men that most do grieue me
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But I that taste the cuppe will say,t'is thou hast don't, and I will beare it
When t'is thy will, who can say nay,
t'is out of loue, why should I feare it.
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Releiue my soule with timely dewe,and comfort me restore:
Restore my soule vnto those ioyes.
the which I felt too sore.
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Now after stormes Lord send a calme,and graunt me peace yet now at last:
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with thankes for all thy fauour past.
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I'le magnifie thy name for aye,that bring'st such wondrous things to passe
That worldlings neither thinke nor say,
nor know why t'is, or how it was.
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The iust shall heare, & saints be glad,when wicked men shall faint & quaile:
To see what fauour I haue had,
& all their hope doth quench & quaile.
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whō they so lōg haue scornd & deem'deuen through afflictions cast away:
For thy name sake Lord mee esteem'd,
their night is past, they haue their day.
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Respect my meditation,helpe mee in time conuenient:
Lord graunt my supplication,
thou know'st & tri'st my hearts intent.
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Let not the righteous be dismaide,nor wicked triumph in my fall:
Nor yet let sinners be afraid,
in time of neede, to thee to call.
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And let me put my confidence,direct my faith, erect mine hope:
Vnto thy gratious prouidence,
this of my praiers is the scoape.
FINIS.
| The teares or lamentations of a sorrowfull Soule | |