Happie indeed and truly blest is hee
Whose sinnes remitted and faults couerèd bee;
To whome the Lord doth not jmpute his sinne,
Whose single heart hath not deceipt therein.
When I was silent I consum'd away,
And pyninge greife did waste mee day by day;
Thy hand on mee was heauy still, whereby
My moisture grewe like draught in Summer drie.
My sinne I will acknowledge Lord to Thee,
My secret faults shall not concealèd bee;
I said, I will my synnes to God confesse,
And God forthwith forgaue my wickednesse.
If good men seeke Him when Hee may be found,
The world's high waues shall neuer them surround;
Thou hid'st mee close and sauest mee from annoy,
And dost enuirone mee with songs of joy;
When Thou hast sett mee in Thyne owne right way,
Thine eye doth guide mee that I doe not stray.
Then must I not be brute, as horse and mule,
Which men with bitt and bridle only rule.
With many whipps, God doth the wicked chase
But doth with mercies faithfull men embrace;
Bee glad, rejoyce, and glory in the Lord
All yee whose hearts doth with His will accord.