XII. William Hunnis

GIUE eare, O Lord, to heare

My heauie carefull cries;

And let my wofull plaints ascend

Aboue the starrie skies.

And now receiue the soule

That puts his trust in thee:

And mercie grant to purge my sinnes—

Mercie, good Lord, mercie.

My soule desires to drinke

From fountaine of thy grace;

To slake this thirst, O God, vouchsafe,

And turne not of thy face:

But bow thy bending eare

With mercie, when I crie,

And pardon grant for sinfull life—

Mercie, good Lord, mercie.

Behold at length, O Lord,

My sore repentant mind,

Which knocks with faith, and hopes thereby

Thy mercies great to find.

Thy promise thus hath past,

From which I will not flie:

Who dooth repent, trusting in thee,

Shall taste of thy mercie.