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 Like to the poor Samaritan; Whom thou unto thy fold hast brought, Even as thou didst the widow of Nain; Most gracious God, didst thou not bid All that were weary come to thee, Behold, I come! even overload With sin, have mercy upon me. The issues of thy soul are great, Thou art both leprous and unclean, To be with me thou art not fit, Go from me then, let me alone. Let me thy garments once but touch, My bloody issue shall be whole, It will not cost thee very much, To save a poor distressed soul, Speak thou the word, I shall be whole, One look of the shall do me good, Save now, good Lord, my silly soul, Bought with thine own most precious blood. Let me alone none of my blood Was ever shed for such as thee, It was my mercy, patience good, Which from damnation made thee free. It is confest thou hadst been just, Altho' thou had condemned me, But O thy mercies still do last, To save the soul that trusts in thee; Let me not then condemned be, Most humbly, Lord I thee request, Of sinners all none like to me, So much the more thy praise shall last.