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 Speak thou the word, I shall be whole, One look of thee 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 ne, 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. Thy praising me is not persite, My saints shall praise me evermore, In sinners I have no delight, Such sacrifice I do abhor. Then she unto the Lord did say, At foot-stool of thy grace I'll ly, Sweet Lord my God, say me not nay, For if I perish here I'll die. Poor silly wretch, then speak no more, Thy faith, poor soul, hath saved thee; Enter thou in unto my glore, And rest thro' all eternity. How soon our Saviour these words said, A long white robe to her was given; And then the angels did her lead, Forthwith within the gates of heaven: