O do not use me 

After my sins! look not on my dessert, 

But on your glory! Then you will reform 

And not refuse me: for you only art 

The mighty God, but I a silly worm; 

 O do not bruise me! 

 

 O do not urge me! 

For what account can your ill steward make? 

I have abused your stock, destroyed your woods, 

Sucked all your storehouses: my head did ache, 

Till it found out how to consume your goods: 

 O do not scourge me! 

 

 O do not blind me! 

I have deserved that an Egyptian night 

Should thicken all my powers; because my lust 

Has still sewed fig-leaves to exclude your light: 

But I am frailty, and already dust; 

 O do not grind me! 

 

 O do not fill me 

With the turned vial of your bitter wrath! 

For you have other vessels full of blood, 

A part whereof my Savior emptied hath, 

Even unto death: since he died for my good, 

 O do not kill me! 

 

 But O reprieve me! 

For you have life and death at your command; 

You are both Judge and Savior, feast and rod, 

Cordial and Corrosive: put not your hand 

Into the bitter box; but O my God, 

 My God, relieve me!