The Complaint of a Sinner.
To the tune of the bonny broome.
CHrist is my loue he loued me.
when I was wretch forlorne
True God from all eternitie,
true man of Virgiu borne:
He pierc'd the Heaveno, be came to earth,
for me his blood to spill:
Yet through my sinnes I haue him lost,
woe worth my froward will:
The bonny Broome, the well favour'd Broom
the broome bloomes faire on hill:
Him have I lost that loved me best,
my love against his will.
My crooked wayes, my words prophane,
My thoughts to evill inclinue,
Hath made this Love to lightly me,
and shew himselfe unkinde
Thus doe I spend my dayes in care,
my nights in mourning still:
For loosing him that lov'd me best,
[...]ite my froward will.
[...]
[...]
ome, &c.
[...]
Swéet
Christ my loue, I must confesse,
the cause of all my paine.
Hath beene my owne bistoy all heart,
that would not true remaine:
But sought for pleasure here below,
that soule and body kill:
And brake my promise made to thée,
alas my froward will.
The bonny broome, &c.
Long haue I dwelt in
Kedars tents,
and long in
Meshech bidden:
And from thy presence full of ioy,
my feet haue long time slidden,
Yet on my barren heart O Lord,
some drops of grace distill:
That I may finde thy loue againe,
and change my froward will.
The bonny broome, &c.
Oh, let me sorrow for my sinne,
and hate my ruthfull race,
Oh let my silly soul
[...],
the fauour o
[...] thy face:
Till thou forget thine vnkindnesse,
and I my mourning still,
And with a free reformed heart,
renounce my froward will.
The bonny broome, &c.
[...]t piece of money lost,
[...]t childe forlorne:
[...]
[...]ndring shéepe O Lord,
[...]
[...]o be torne.
[...] Lord and finde me out,
[...] fold vntill,
[...]
[...]ngels may reioyce,
[...] will
[...]
[...]me, &c.
[...]th the bloody streames,
[...]ounds so wide
[...]y dar
[...]ng deare,
[...] me guide
[...] Broome,
[...]ill,
[...] for aie,
[...] will.
[...] well favour'd Broom
[...] faire on hill,
[...]
[...]ife amend,
[...] thy will.