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〈♫〉〈♫〉 O Lord in thee is al my trust, geue eare vnto my woful cryes, refuse me not that am vniust, but bowing downe thy heauenly eyes. Behold how I do stil lament, my synnes wherin I thee offēd: O Lord for them shal I be shente, sith thee to please I do intend No, no, not so, thy wil is bent, to deale with syn∣ners
〈♫〉〈♫〉 in thine ire: but when in hart they shall repent, thou grauntest with spede theyr iust desire. To thee therfore still shall I cry, To wash away my sinfull crime. Thy bloud O Lord is not yet dry, but that it may helpe me in time. Hast now O Lord, hast now I say, to poure on me the giftes of grace, that when this life must flit away, in heauen with thee I may haue place, where thou doost raygn eternally, with God which once did downe thee send: where aungels sing continually to thee be prayse world without ende. Amen.