View mee, Lord, a worke of thine :
Shall I then lye drown'd in night?
Might thy grace in mee but shine,
I should seeme made all of light.

But my soule still surfets so
On the poysoned baytes of sinne,
That I strange and vgly growe,
All is darke and foule within.

Clense mee, Lord, that I may kneele
At thine Altar, pure and white :
They that once thy Mercies feele,
Gaze no more on earths delight.

Worldly ioyes like shadowes fade,
When the heau'nly light appeares ;
But the cou'nants thou hast made,
Endlesse, know nor dayes, nor yeares.

In thy word, Lord, is my trust,
To thy mercies fast I flye ;
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high.