Lift up to heaven, sad wretch, thy heavy sprite!

Lift up to heaven, sad wretch, thy heavy sprite!
What though thy sins, thy due destruction threat?
The Lord exceeds in mercy as in might;
His ruth is greater, though thy crimes be great.
Repentance needs not fear the heaven's just rod,
It stays even thunder in the hand of God.

With cheerful voice to Him then cry for grace!
Thy Faith and fainting Hope with Prayer revive;
Remorse for all that truly mourn hath place;
Not God, but men of Him themselves deprive:
Strive then, and He will help; call Him He'll hear:
The son needs not the father's fury fear.