Full Lyrics
If that a sinners sighes, bee Angels food,
or that repentaunt teares bee Angels wine,
accept O Lord in this most pensive moode,
these hartie sighes and faithfull teares of mine:
That went with Peter forth most sinfullie,
but not with Peter wept most bitterlie.
If I had Davids Crowne to mee betide,
or all his purple robes that hee did weare,
I would lay then such honor all aside,
and onely seeke a sackcloth weede to beare,
his Pallace would I leave that I might show,
and mourne in cell for such offence, my woe.
Ther should these hands beat on my pensive brest
and sad, to death, for sorrow rend my haire,
my voice to call on thee, should never rest,
whose grace I seeke, whose judgement I doe feare:
upon the ground all groveling on my face,
I would beseech thy favour and good grace.
