Matthew(i)
8 But now O Lorde, thou father of oures: we are al the claye, and thou art our potter & we are al the worke of thy handes.
9 Be not to sore displeased (O Lorde) and kepe not our offences to longe in thy remembraunce, but considre that we are all thy people.
10 The cytyes of thy Sanctuary lye waste, Sion is a wildernesse, and Ierusalem a deserte.