 | The temple |  |
Church-lock and key.
I know it is my sinne, which locks thine eares,
And bindes thy hands,
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;
Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands.
And bindes thy hands,
Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;
Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands.
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But as cold hands are angrie with the fire,
And mend it still;
So I do lay the want of my desire,
Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.
And mend it still;
So I do lay the want of my desire,
Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.
Yet heare, O God, onely for his blouds sake
Which pleads for me:
For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make,
His blouds sweet current much more loud to be.
Which pleads for me:
For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make,
His blouds sweet current much more loud to be.
| The temple | |