And merited sure, naught else is deserved,
But to be thus of comfort bereft.
I groan, being burdened, and cannot look up,
By reason of sin’s dread array,
O keep back from sins, and from secret faults cleanse,
Or despairing, I sink in dismay.
Sin hardens, and blinds, and shuts up in despair;
The way of transgressors is hard,
Its end is destruction, its wages are death,
Thus forever from Heaven debarred.