What are our vaunts? whence should our spirits rise?

Are not brute beasts as strong, and birds as gay;

Trees longer liv’d, and creeping thinges as wise?

Onlie our Soules recieve more inward light,

To feel our weakness, and confess thy might.

Lett these pure noates ascend unto thie throne,

Where majestie doth sitt with mercy crown’d;

Where my redeemer lives, in whome alone

The errors of my wandringe life are drown’d.

Where all the quire of heaven resound thi fame,