Praise (II)

King of Glory, King of Peace,

                    I will love you:

And that love may never cease,

                    I will move you.

You have granted my request,

                    You have heard me:

You did note my working breast,

                    You have spared me.

Therefore with my utmost art

                    I will sing you,

And the cream of all my heart

                    I will bring you.

Though my sins against me cried,

                    You did clear me;

And alone, when they replied,

                    You did hear me.

Seven whole days, not one in seven,

                    I will praise you.

In my heart, though not in heaven,

                    I can raise you.

You grew'st soft and moist with tears,

                    You relented:

And when Justice called for fears,

                    You dissented.

Small it is, in this poor sort

                    To enroll thee:

Even eternity is to short

                    To extol thee.