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William Strachie

Twas the trumpe of death that blew my houre is come falle worlde adeiue Thy pleasures have betray'd mee soe That I to death untimely goe & ffor Death's the punnishmet of sinne And of all creatures I have binne The most ingratefull wicked one That ere the heavens did shine upon

I have sin'd against Earth & heaven early by daye late in the even All manner sinnes all manner wayes I have comitted in my dayes xx Hell and hellfire is my due O but deere shrift I humby sue Thy Blood may wash my red soule n[?] mercy and Judgement's thy delight.

At which mercy gate I knocke Get sobes and sighes the same unlock Prostrate I fall & begg for grace O doe not turne awaye thy face My crying sinnes beate at they throne Once bowe the Seauen's look donne upo A wretch more outhonne with greif That beggs for mercye not for life

FINIS