The confession and repentance of George Sanders Gentleman late
of Shugh in the County of Hereford, who unnaturally killed his Uncle, and accused
his owne Father for the murder: but by Gods providence being discovered, he dyed for the
same. Where he writ this Song with his owne hand. To the tune of Fortune my Foe.
His repentance in prison.
To the same tune.
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MOngst Lions fell in Daniels Den am I,
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In lowest prison cast with Jeremy,
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Fed with Elias by the Ravens fell,
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And plac'd with Jonas in the maw of Hell.
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Naked with Esau, fearefull doe I walke,
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Dumbe with old Zachary silent doe I talke,
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Afflictions bread with Micha is my food,
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And with the Prophet drinke I sorrowes flood.
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As poore as Job even now so poore am I,
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Despis'd with Lazarus in great misery,
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Banisht with David from my native land;
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Cast up with Jonas on the Ninivites sand.
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Made blind with Tobit by the swallowes dung,
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And with poore Joseph cast in prison strong;
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I weepe with Mary who had lost her Master,
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And run with Peter who should run the faster.
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I sinned have, for sinne God curst the ground,
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I sinned have, for sinne the world was drown'd;
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I sinned have, sinne Sodome set on fire,
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Also for sinne did AEgypt feele Gods ire.
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I sinned have, for sinne did Adam die,
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I sinned have, sinne caused Davids crie;
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I sinned have, and for sinne Satan fell,
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From an high Angell to a Divell in Hell.
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Shall David weepe for sinne, and shall not I,
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Shall Mary weepe, and shall my eyes be dry?
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Shall Esau weepe, and shall not I weepe more?
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Did Peter weepe, such teares let me have store.
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Did Mary weepe for losse of Master deare?
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Did Martha weepe for sorrow toucht full neare?
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Spring eyes with teares to wash his sacred feet,
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That for my sinnes did shed his blood most sweet.
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Larke-like I fly unto thy living Spring,
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Desiring pardon of my heavenly King;
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Past worldly hope, now like the theefe on tree,
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I onely fixe my faith and hope on thee.
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Looke backe to me as thou didst unto Peter,
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Speake to my soule as to the theefe more sweeter?
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Oh spie me out with Zache in the tree,
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And with good Bartholomew call me Lord to thee.
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Oh let me now with holy Abraham spie
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A saving Ram that Isaac may not die;
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Oh let me live for to sound out thy praise,
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That I may shew thy mercy in my dayes.
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Make me now a Sparrow in thy house O King,
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That Swallow-like I may there sit and sing?
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O let me in thy Temple keepe a doore,
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That I may praise thy name for evermore.
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