22
And of the crumbs they were right fain,
Grant mc one crumb then that doth fall
From thy best ehildren's table, Lord,
That I may be refreshed withal,
It will not help enough afford.
The gates of merey now are elosed,
And thou canst hardly enter in:
It is not so as thou supposed,
For thou art deadly sick in sin.
'Tis true indeed, my Lord most meek
My sore and sickness I do feel:
Yet thou the lame didst truly seek,
Who lay long at Bethseda's pool,
Of many that thee never sought,
Like to the poor Samaritan;
Whom thou unto thy fold has brought,
Even as thou didst the widow of Nain
Most graeious God, didst thou not bid
All that are weary come to thee,
Behold, I come! even overload
With sin, have merey upon me.
The issues of thy soul are great,
Thou art both leprous and unclean,
To be with me thou art not fit,
Go from me then, let me alone.
Let me thy garments once but toueh,
My bloody issue shall be whole,
