XXVII. Prostrate O Lord
1
Prostrate ô Lord I lie,
behold, mee Lord with pittie,
stop not thine eares against my crie,
my sad and mourning dittie,
Breath'd from an inward soule,
from heart heartelie contrite,
an offering sweet, a sacrifice,
in thy high heauenlie sight,
2
Obserue not sinnes O Lord,
for vvho may then abide it,
but let thy mercie cancell them,
thou hast not man deni'd it,
man melting vvith remorse and thoughts,
thought past repenting,
O lighten Lord, O heare our songs,
our sinnes full sore lamenting.
3
The vvonders of thy vvorks,
aboue all reason reacheth,
and yet thy mercie aboue all
this, vs thy Spirit teacheth.
then let no sinner fall,
in depth of foule dispaire,
since neuer soule so foule there vvas,
but mercie made it faire.
FINIS.
