My God! look on me with Thine eye Of pity, not of scrutiny; For if Thou dost, Thou then shalt see Nothing but loathsome sores in me. O then, for mercy’s sake, behold These my eruptions manifold, And heal me with Thy look or touch; But if Thou wilt not deign so much, Because I’m odious in Thy sight, Speak but the word, and cure me quite.