The confession of a paenitent Sinner.
To the tune of, O man in desperation: or,
Some men for suddaine joyes doe weepe.
|
OF Adams seed, poore sinner I,
|
come creeping to bewaile
|
My sin secure, my wonted crime,
|
no moment will I fayle.
|
Of sinfull Saul, o Lord I pray,
|
that I a Paul may be,
|
And not a filthy Sodomite,
|
but one of Ninivy.
|
And make mee with the Publican,
|
my selfe low to submit:
|
And thou, o sweet Samaritan,
|
come helpe mee wondrous sick.
|
I am that Sonne, that unthrift child,
|
that playd the roysting guest:
|
But call me home, good Father deare,
|
I humbly thee request.
|
Aray mee new, fetch in the Calfe,
|
I will no more be lost:
|
And let thy friends rejoyce hereat,
|
and spare, I pray, no cost:
|
I went not to thy Vineyard, I,
|
albeit I said, I would,
|
But though I come but very late,
|
my hyre doe not with-hold.
|
Take here to thee a sacrifice,
|
a contrite spirit of mine:
|
Which better is than bloud of Bulls,
|
else Goats, fat Rams, or Kyne.
|
Thou art my God, and I confesse
|
my selfe thy creature poore,
|
I fearefull Peter, thou true Christ,
|
one God for evermore.
|
In sinne was I begot and borne,
|
in sinne I had my suck,
|
In sinne I ran my youthfull race,
|
in sinne I was brought up.
|
What world would wish to have,
|
and what the flesh desired:
|
All that I sought to amplifie,
|
thus falsely I conspired.
|
I am that barren sterrill field,
|
where envious man did sow
|
Destroying darnell, tare, and weede,
|
because I might not grow.
|
That stately Steward eke I am,
|
that oft my fellowes beat,
|
Thou art that Lord, that once to mee,
|
forgavest mee the debt:
|
But I thy kindnesse quite forgot,
|
and would not shew the like,
|
But hee that ought mee but a small,
|
I handled with great spight:
|
In brothers eye a mote I spyed,
|
but let the beame alone,
|
(And at a straw I stumbled thus)
|
that long was in mine owne.
|
I see but still to sinfull life,
|
I run from worse to worse,
|
And play the youngman very loath
|
my substance to disburse:
|
That flinty Pharaoh have I beene,
|
that plagues did never dread,
|
I might full soone have drowned beene
|
but for thy better speed.
|
|
|
|
|
The second part, To the same tune.
|
A Pilgrime poore amid the land,
|
that could not be content,
|
But to indure the golden Calfe,
|
full oft did I consent:
|
In fleshly froward fuming fume,
|
full many a time I said
|
In Egypt Land great store wee had,
|
both victuals, flesh, and bread.
|
The Hypocrite I playd likewise,
|
and would not stand in awe,
|
I came to aske which Precept was
|
the greatest in the Law.
|
I fed like greedy glutton fat,
|
and did the begger hate,
|
I had such businesse, let I was
|
to come to marriage gate.
|
What shal I say, since thou dost know
|
my sinnes in number all?
|
To stand in judgement can I not,
|
except thou rid my thrall.
|
Forgive, forget, put out of mind,
|
good Lord, my great offence,
|
And heale my soule with price of bloud
|
my ample indulgence,
|
Shal I despair, or dread more doubts?
|
my sinne is not so great,
|
But mercies of my Saviour Christ,
|
surmount them many a steppe.
|
And by his promise hold I take,
|
knock ye, and I will open,
|
Seeke, call, come all that laden be,
|
the mouth of God hath spoken.
|
I will be ready, heare, and helpe,
|
your sins as scarlet red,
|
As white as snow, shall purged be,
|
in Esay this is said.
|
Examples eke of mercies moe
|
the text at large doth tell,
|
Discoursing of the sinfull Wife,
|
who long lived as rebell.
|
Both Mary Magdalen and more,
|
had pardon grant of thee,
|
Yea even the Thiefe, by his beleefe,
|
doth live eternally.
|
Why should not I, poore sinner then,
|
be bold to sue for grace,
|
When this I see abundantly,
|
thy goodnesse will imbrace.
|
All such as will repent with teares,
|
and turne with whole intent,
|
And quite refuse their sinfull waies,
|
and earnestly relent.
|
Turne, turne, o Lord, turne then to me
|
my heart I rent and teare,
|
In death, in life, I am thine owne,
|
for me thou paydst full deare.
|
Laud, praise, and thanks, with mind & heart,
|
to thee, my God, I give,
|
Direct my waies, at end of daies,
|
in glory let mee live.
|
That blessed Ghost may mount to sky
|
when wormes the body eate,
|
Lord heare my sute, & grant me grace
|
I humbly thee intreat.
|
|
|
|
|