Seuen Sobs of a Sorrowful Soule for Sinne Comprehending those seuen Psalmes of the Princelie Prophet David, commonlie called Poenitentiall; framed into a forme of familiar praiers, and reduced into meeter by William Hunnis ... Whereunto are also annexed his Handful of Honisuckles; the Poore Widowes Mite; a Dialog between Christ and a sinner; diuers godlie and pithie ditties, with a Christian confession of and to the Trinitie; newly printed and augmented |
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| 4. | The 4 meditation.
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 | Seuen Sobs of a Sorrowful Soule for Sinne |  |
The 4 meditation.
[Most gratious God, doo not behold]
Most gratious God, doo not behold
the number of my sin,
Ne yet consider with thy selfe
how wicked I haue bin;
But rather thinke I am but dust,
or as the withered haie,
Which flourisheth to daie in field,
to morrow shorne awaie.
my flesh rebels against the spirit,
my spirit too weake is found,
By sinne conceiu'd in mothers wombe,
my soule first caught his wound,
My flesh is fraile, too weake and vaine,
to do the thing I should,
And what I would not, that do I,
contrarie that I would.
Thou seest, O Lord, how weake I am,
not able for to stand
Without the succour, helpe and aid
of thy most mightie hand.
And what is he that wil not staie
the man thats like to fall?
Or wil refuse the sicke to helpe,
for helpe when he doth call?
If thou wilt laie vnto my charge,
the burden of my sin,
O Lord, the conquest is but small,
that thou thereby shalt win.
For why, thy glory and thy praise,
in mercie doth consist,
Vnto the which I yeeld my selfe,
to do with what thou list.
the number of my sin,
Ne yet consider with thy selfe
how wicked I haue bin;
But rather thinke I am but dust,
or as the withered haie,
Which flourisheth to daie in field,
to morrow shorne awaie.
my flesh rebels against the spirit,
my spirit too weake is found,
By sinne conceiu'd in mothers wombe,
my soule first caught his wound,
36
to do the thing I should,
And what I would not, that do I,
contrarie that I would.
Thou seest, O Lord, how weake I am,
not able for to stand
Without the succour, helpe and aid
of thy most mightie hand.
And what is he that wil not staie
the man thats like to fall?
Or wil refuse the sicke to helpe,
for helpe when he doth call?
If thou wilt laie vnto my charge,
the burden of my sin,
O Lord, the conquest is but small,
that thou thereby shalt win.
For why, thy glory and thy praise,
in mercie doth consist,
Vnto the which I yeeld my selfe,
to do with what thou list.
My soule shall trust in thee, in thee:
and still for mercie crie,
Peccaui, peccaui,
miserere mei.
and still for mercie crie,
Peccaui, peccaui,
miserere mei.
| Seuen Sobs of a Sorrowful Soule for Sinne | |