The confession of a paenitent Sinner.
To the tune of,
O man in desperation: or,
Some men for suddaine joyes doe weepe.
OF
Adams séed, poore sinner I,
come créeping to bewaile
My sin secure, my wonted crime,
no moment will I fayle.
Of sinfull
Saul, o Lord I pray,
that I a
Paul may be,
And not a filthy Sodomite,
but one of Niniuy.
And make mée with the Publican,
my selfe low to submit:
And thou, o swéet Samaritan,
come helpe mée wondrous sick.
I am that Sonne, that vnthrift child,
that playd the roysting guest:
But call me home, good Father deare,
I humbly thée request.
Aray mee new, fetch in the Calfe,
I will no more be lost:
And let thy friends rejoyce hereat,
and spare, I pray, no cost:
I went not to thy Uineyard, I,
albeit I said, I would,
But though I come but very late,
my hyre doe noi with-hold.
Take here to thée a sacrifice,
a contrite spirit of mine:
Which better is than bloud of Bulls,
else Goats, fat Rams, or Kyne.
Thou act my God, and I confesse
my selfe thy creature poore,
I fearefull
Peter, thou true Christ,
one God for euermore.
In sinne was I begot and borne,
in sinne I had my suck,
In sinne I ran my youthfull race,
in sinne I was brought vp.
What world would wish to haue,
and what the flesh desired:
All that I sought to amplifie,
thus falsely I conspired.
I am that barren sterrill field,
where enuious man did sow
Destroying daruell, tare, and wéede,
because I might not grow.
That stately Steward eke I. am,
that oft my fellowes beat,
Thou art that Lord, that once to mée,
forgauest mée the debt:
But I thy kindnesse quite forgot,
and would not shew the like,
But hée that ought mée but a small,
I handled with great spight:
In brothers eye a mote I spyed,
but let the beame alone,
(And at a straw I stumbled thus)
that long was in mine owne.
I sée but still to sinfull life,
I run from worse to worse,
And play the youngman very loath
my substance to disburse:
That flinty
Pharaoh haue I béene,
that plagues did neuer bread,
I might full soone haue drowned béene
but for thy better spéed.
The second part,
To the same tune.
A Pilgrime poore amid the land,
that could not be content,
But to indure the golden Calfe,
full oft did I consent:
In fleshly froward fuming fume,
full many a time I said
In Egypt Land great store wee had,
both victuals, flesh, and bread.
The Hypocrite I playd likewise,
and would not stand in awe,
I came to aske which Precept was
the greatest in the Law.
I fed like greedy glutton fat,
and did the begger hate,
I had such bustnesse, let I was
to come to marriage gate.
What shal I say, since thou dost know
my sinnes in number all?
To stand in judgement can I not,
except thou rid my thrall.
Forgiue, forget, put out of mind,
good Lord, my great offence,
And heale my soule with price of bloud
my ample indulgence,
Shal I despair, or dread more doubts?
my sinne is not so great,
But mercies of my Sauiour Christ,
surmount them many a steppe.
And by his promise hold I take,
knock ye, and I will open,
Seeke, call, come all that laden be,
the mouth of God hath spoken.
I will be ready, heare, and helpe,
your sins as scarlet red,
As white. as snow, shall purged be,
in
Esay this is said.
Examples eke of mercies moe
the text at large doth tell,
Discoursing of the sinfull Wife,
who long liued as rebell.
Both
Mary Magdalen and more,
had pardon grant of thee,
Yea euen the Thiefe, by his beleefe,
doth liue eternally.
Why should not I, poore sinner then,
be bold to sue for grace,
When this I see abundantly,
thy goodnesse will imbrace.
All such as will repent with teares,
and turne with whole intent,
And quite refuse their sinfull waies,
and earnestly relent.
Turne, turne, o Lord, turne then to me
my heart I rent and teare,
In death, in life, I am thine owne,
for me thou paydst full deare.
Land, praise, and thanks, with mind & heart,
to thee, my God, I giue,
Direct my waies, at end of daies,
in glory let mes liue.
That blessed Ghost may mount to sky
when wormes the body eate,
Lord heare my sute, & grant me grace
I humbly thee intreat.
FINIS
Printed at London for H. Gosson.