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'Tis true indeed my lord most meek,
My sore and sickness I do feel;
Yet thou the same did truly seek,
Who lay long at Bethseda's pool,
Of many that thee never sought,
Such as the poor Samaritan,
Whom thou into thy sold has brought,
Even as thou did the widow of Nain,
Most gracious God, didst thou not bid
All that were weary come to thee?
Behold I come, even overload,
With sin; have mercy upon me.
The issues of thy soul are great,
Thou art both leprous and unclean,
To be with me thou art unfit,
Go from me then, let me alone,
Let me thy garments once but touch,
My bloody issue shall be whole,
It will not cost thee very much
To save a poor distressed soul.
Speak thou the word, I shall be whole,
One look of thee shall do me good,
Save now, good Lord, my silly soul,
Bought with thine own most precious blood
Let me alone, none of my blood
Was ever shed for such as thee,
It was my mercy, patience good,
Which from damnation made thee free.
It is contest thou hadst been just
Although thou hadst condemned me,
But O thy mercies still do last,
To save the soul that trusts in thee.