Poem by William Browne

Behold, O God!

BEHOLD, O God! in rivers of my tears
I come to thee! bow down thy blessed ears
To hear me, wretch, and let thine eyes
(which sleep
Did never close) behold a sinner weep:
Let not, O God, my God, my faults through great,
And numberless, between thy mercy's seat
And my poor soul be thrown! since we are taught,
Thou, Lord, remember'st thine, if thou be sought.
I come not, Lord, with any other merit
Than what I by my Saviour Christ inherit:
Be then his wounds my balm; his stripes my bliss;
My crown his thorns; my death be lost in his.
And thou, my blest Redeemer, Saviour, God,
Quit my accounts, withhold the vengeful rod!
O beg for me! my hopes on thee are set;
And Christ forgive, as well as pay the debt.

The living fount, the life, the way, I know,
And but to thee, O whither should I go?
All other helps are vain: grant thine to me,
For in thy cross my saving health must be.
O hearken then what I with faith implore,
Lest Sin and Death sink me for evermore.
Lastly, O God! my ways direct and guide;
In death defend me, that I never slide;
And at the doom let me be raised then,
To live with thee; sweet Jesus, say Amen! 

1. A Concert of Birds
2. To England
3. May Day Customs
4. Memory
5. A Welcome

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