126.
These hands to thee (O God) that for a gift
Thine owne deare Sonne for sin to death did yeeld,
These hands, I say, to thee I now do lift,
Which once did beare thy badge in brazen shield,
Against the Pagan foes in many a field,
Beseeching thee, from whom all mercies flowes,
To grant such grace, as death may end my woes.
127.
Twice fortie yeares and more, my daies haue ben,