The poore and distressed soule being loaden with the
burthen of his sinnes, feruently prayeth to God for his remission thereof.
1
O Lord come pittie my distresse,
see how I sigh and groane:
With teares and floods of heauinesse,
my heart is ouerthrowne.
2
Noe hope I finde, noe helpe I feele,
noe cure nor salue I see:
None can my sinnes corruptions heale,
sweete Iesus comfort me.
3
My wounding sorrowes neuer cease,
my greefes grow more and more:
What I should kill, doth still increase,
Lord saue my soule therefore.
4
I liuing dye, yet dying liue,
in life, yet dayly dye:
I sigh and grone yet cannot grieue,
sinne makes this mistery.
5
Lord let me liue yet howrely die,
in loue yet dayly hate:
Let me imbrace yet still defie,
let peace breede all debate.
6
O let me liue, yet neuer liue,
aliue yet euer dead:
O let me grieue, yet neuer grieue,
fed with thy liuing bread.
7
Let passions passe, let groanes be gon,
let moanes be turn'd to mirth:
I liue and die to Christ alone,
let sorrowes sincke to earth.
FINIS.
