A house be not clean if dust lay upon the floor in a pile
Nor be a conscience if sin forgotten with just a smile
But lay that sin upon the Cross both today and tomrrow
And your soul will be healed of all uncureable sorrow

Though a house be still filthy is the dust thrown out
For there still lingers the cobwebs without a doubt
Although the conscience be clean the memories remain
Grace and Mercy through confession thy soul shall obtain

Extenuate my multiple sins I do not dare to do
Nor if to fall seventy times a minute I have not a clue
As to the weight of my sin alone that was put upon You
Not even to think of all the sin that was washed for life anew