Verse 1
A fountain of infectious blood
Hath made my heart and life unclean:
Most loathsom in the sight of God
The dire concupiscence within,
The filthiness of lust and pride,
Of flesh and spirit I bemoan;
And having all physicians tried,
Confess, I can be heal’d by none.
Verse 2
A length of years in sin and pain
Have I not rather died than liv’d?
Yet no relief from means, or men,
Sufferings, or works, have I receiv’d:
My strength is spent, my life is gone,
The last faint spark of hope and grace,
And sunk in deep despair, I own
I am all sin and wickedness.