First, Great Britain's Confession. Second, Great Britain's Intercession. Third, and the Authors earnest desire for the King's Majesties happy and speedy return to his high Court of Parliament. Great Britain's mournful doleful lamentation, Because of sin, and sinful occupation. Craving of God true righteousness and peace, Faith, hope and love, unto her joys increase. Woes me great Britain, what becomes of me That have offended in so high degree, By sins committed? fearful sins indeed, Which makes my soul and body much to bleed. I have forsaken God, the God of love, Well may Christ Jesus my ill deeds reprove. I have forsaken God, the God of peace, Well may Christ Jesus fearful woes increase. I have forsaken truth, peace, righteousness, By fearful heinous sins and wickedness. I have forsaken Jesus Christ my Saviour, By my most base and filthy foul behaviour I have abused Gods most holy Spirit, By my refusing of Christ Jesus merit. I have so much defended my ill cause, That of Christ Jesus I get small applause. Whereas I should in humble wise confess My sins to God, and all my wickedness. I have defended sin, and sins condition, That well I may be thrown into perdition. I with a brazen face have fronted God, I well may suffer his most fearful rod. I have excused, whereas I should accuse, Condemn and judge myself for my abuse. I have abused God's patience by my sin, Well may my sorrow's miseries begin. By pride, oppression, I have sins committed, Which in true justice scarce can be remitted. If mercy plead not for my sinful case, I shall become most filthy, foul, and base. By drinking, eating, riot, and excess, I have committed fearful wickedness. By swearing, lying, idleness, and sloth, I have offended, broken faith and troth. By Idol service, fearful to behold, I have offended, I may be comptrolled. By great injustice I have much transgressed, The poor man's cause I have not in request. By wrongful dealing, bribery, extortion, In hell I do deserve to have my portion. By whoredom, looseness, idleness, and ease, By gaming, sporting, I my God displease. By crisping, curling, pondering, frizling hair, I seem a russian rude, without compare. By digging, delving in the depth of sin, Well may my sorrow's miseries begin. By sins in secret, and in public done, I grieved have both Father and the Son. I grieved have my Gods most holy Spirit, Death and destruction well may be my merit. I have so proved myself base Cavalleer, That I deserve to have sad whipping cheer. I have so much rebelled against my God, He may full justly plague me with his rod. I have been such an enemy to peace, That well Christ Jesus may my woes increase. The peace of God I slenderly regarded, I for my sins may justly be rewarded With war, with famine, misery and woe, Because my sins I will not quite forgo. By Idol service, Romish occupation, I do deserve to have no longer station. By Image-worship, Idol gods adoring, I from Christ Jesus basely run a whoring. By swearing, cursing, blasphemy, and lies, My fearful oaths infected have the skies. By much profaning of God's Sabbath day, I well deserve to be cast quite away By my dishonouring of my parents dear, I much deserve to have sad whipping cheer, By killing, slaying, murdering, hating, wounding, My fearful sins are super much abounding. By base adultery, spiritual fornication, By whoredoms base, and soul abomination I sinned have, I have offended God, He well may plague me, make me feel his rod. For robbing, plundering, cozening, cheating, stealing God well may plague me for my unjust dealing. For bearing witness false, unjust, untrue, My wretched case my sinful soul may rue. For coveting, and craving things unjust, I justly suffer, and I suffer must. Unless God's mercy do appear to me In Jesus Christ, I shall forsaken be. Good God forgive me these my sinful crimes, In mercy turn thee unto me betimes. Turn me unto thee by my sins forsaking, That of true joys my soul may have partaking. Grant this good God for Christ his sake thy Son, Forgive my sins I have against thee done. To whom with thee, and blessed holy Spirit, Who only dost eternity inherit, Be glory, honour, power, thanks, and praise, On earth, in heaven, without end of days, Amen. Great Britain prays for pardon, for remission Of sins, transgressions, filthy foul condition: She craves God's mercy, righteousness, truth, peace, Faith, hope, and love, unto her joys increase. I Sigh, I sob, I sorrow, mourn, lament, My sins committed make me to repent. My God is angry, he offended is, For sins, transgressions, for things done amiss. What will become of me Great Britain's Land, That have offended with so high a hand? I have abused my God, myself, my friends, By sinful actions causing fearful ends. I am ashamed to look God in the face, Because my sins have brought me in disgrace. Good Lord forgive me mine offences all, My fearful sins, transgressions great and small. My sins of thought, my sins of word and deed, Good God forgive them, they still make me bleed. Lord heal my griefs, my wounds are festered sore, My fearful sins still make me cry and roar. I much lament my filthy foul condition, Which brings my soul and body to perdition. Remove my sins out of thy precious sight, In sins committed thou tak'st no delight. Good God pass by them, pity my distress, Forgive my sins, and all my wickedness. I am become like one that is diseased With falling sickness, that would feign be eased, Who wounds his head, his body, and his heart, And trembles, quivers, shakes in every part, Beating and thumping with such fearful blows, His breast, his stomach, belly, face, and brows, And finds no rest, until the fit be gone, Which makes him weep his fit to think upon. This is my case, this is my sad disease, To free me from it Lord thee let it please. Thou hast the power, none but thee alone, Thou well canst heal my malady and moan. Thou canst defend my head and members all, Preserve Great Britain that it may not fall. Lord heal those members that infected are, Thou in sweet mercy art without compare. Speak thou the word; do thou perform the deed, Thy healing Spirit send to me with speed. Lord spread thy mercy over thine handmaid, Who hath by sins been fearfully betrayed, And lies a bleeding in most fearful wise, Lord in thy mercy do not me despise. I am a sinner I myself confess, And am arraigned for sin and wickedness, To plead not guilty if I make denial, My sins cry out against me in my trial. I am found guilty, I myself submit, My sins confess, Christ Jesus them remit. I humbly pray thee for thy mercy's sake Of thy sweet merits let my soul partake. Make well my head, Lord, make my body found, Let no ill member in the same be found. Let head and members in such wise agree, That I true service may perform to thee. My head, my body make so perfect well, That I may live in peace, in safety dwell, That so I may be thankful unto thee, Who makest me sound and safe in each degree, That soul and body both may well consent To hold with thee a blessed Parliament. That so my sins transgressions swept away, I may thee truly serve both night and day. Grant this good God for Christ his sake, thy Son, And his sweet merits he for me hath done. To whom with thee, and blessed holy Spirit, Be thanks and praise, who heaven dost inherit, Be glory, honour, power, thanks, and praise, On earth, in heaven, without end of days. Amen. To bring our King to his grave Parliament John Cragge hath written this with heart's consent, Praying to God he may return with speed, To cure the fretting wound which still doth bleed. Come home, come home, sweet sovereign Charlemagne Come cheer your subjects hearts which much complain, By reason of your absence causing war, Which in Great Britain makes a fearful scar. Full many a hundred thousand pound is spent This Civil war, which causeth discontent, Which might have been bestowed a better way, Then thus to bring your kingdoms to decay. Besides the loss of many a gentle heart, Whose loss to friends brings sorrow, woe & smart. Your coming home will be accepted well, Why should you thus against yourself rebel? Why should you strive against your Parliament, Which in true justice seeks to give content To God and man, to neighbour, friend, & brother, Yea to yourself in Christ above all other. I dare be bold, there's not a man doth live In Parliament but would contentment give Unto your Majesty, in such a way As might for ever make you win the day Against your foes that Antichrist maintain, Such foes subdue your Parliament would feign. The grand Militia which they take in hand, Is for the health and welfare of the Land, Not any ways to derogate at all, Nor take from you, nor make your sceptre fall. Their strength is yours, if you will side with them, They do esteem you for their precious Gem. Their sending forces is to fetch you home, To bend your force against the force of Rome; Not to molest you, nor your person tear, But to conduct you for your safety here, From such as have abused your kingdom's Crown And would the Law and Gospel quite put down, The Law of God, and Jesus Christ his Son, To make your kingdoms three be quite undone. Come then sweet Sovereign, friendly give consent And well accord with your grave Parliament. What if you did in presence of them all, Before Christ Jesus let your Sceptre fall, And yield to him what is his due by right? It would advance you in Christ Jesus sight. What if you did confess yourself to be A sinful man against his Majesty? And one that had not done so good a deed, As to Christ Jesus might contentment breed? And that you sorry are for what is done Against Christ Jesus under Britain's Son. This is the thing Christ Jesus doth desire, Your humbleness is all he doth require. If you submit to him, he yields to you, And will your foes for ever quite undo. There's not a man in your grave Parliament, But with their heart will give you good content. Nay if before them all you should lay down Your Diadem, your Sceptre, and your Crown, There's none but would fall down upon their knee And with your Majesty full well agree, And much advance you for your royal deed, Which thing would stench the wound that still doth bleed This thing no doubt would such contentment give To God in Christ, that you should peaceful live, And in your soul should such contentment find, No thing on earth should more content your mind, No King on earth should such contentment have, You shall not want what you can wish or crave. Your subjects love in Christ shall be your gain, And then in Christ you shall full sweetly reign, In faith, in truth, in righteousness and peace, In love, in honour, to your joys increase. Then come sweet Sovereign, come to London town, It will advance your Sceptre, and your Crown, By siding with your wise grave Parliament, Will give true Christian hearts full sweet content. Which that you may in Christ perform with speed Christ Jesus bless you for such Princely deed.