O Lord, in thee is all my trust.
Give ear unto my woeful cries.
Refuse me not, that am unjust,
But bowing down thy heav'nly eyes,
Behold how I do still lament
My sins wherein I thee offend.
O Lord, for them shall I be shent,
Sith thee to please I do intend?

No, no, not so! Thy will is bent
To deal with sinners in thine ire:
But when in heart they shall repent
Thou grant'st with speed their just desire.
To thee therefore still shall I cry,
To wash away my sinful crime.
Thy blood, O Lord is not yet dry,
But that it may help me in time.

Haste now, O Lord, haste now, I say,
To pour on me the gifts of grace;
That when this life must flit away
In Heav'n with thee I may have place,
Where thou dost reign eternally
With God which once did down thee send,
Where angels sing continually.
To thee be praise, world without end.
Amen.