Prostrate O Lord, I lie, beehold mee Lord, with pittie, stop not thine eares against my cry, my sad and mourning dittie, Breath'd from an inward soule, from hart hart'ly contrite, an offering sweet, a sacrifice, in thy high heavenly sight. Observe not sinnes O Lord, for who may then abide it, but let thy mercie cancell them, thou hast not man deni'd it, man melting with remorse and thoughts, thought past repenting, O lighten Lord, O heare our songs, our sinnes full sore lamenting. The wonders of thy works above all reason reacheth, and yet thy mercie above all this, us thy spirit teacheth, then let no sinner fall, in depth of foul despair, since never soul so foul there was, but mercie made it faire.
https://primanota.net/william-byrd/prostrate-o-lord-i-lie-lyrics.htm