Page:Cogitations upon death, or, The mirror of man's misery (1).pdf/10

 Crying, wo, wo, and wail away, That ever we this day did see, For we are lost for ever and ay; This makes me dread when I shall die. The precious blood of Jesus Christ, They shall it curse with great disdain, That bought so many thousand souls, Because no drop was shed for them. To save them from that bitter pain, Which by no craft they now can flee, Nor, yet by force of might or main; This makes me dread when I shall die. But Christ he will not suffer long, Then to blaspheme in his presence; But soon will bid cast over them, In the black vale of his vengeance, And then lead them away from thence, And cast them in with that menzie, Into the pit of endless pain; This makes me dread when I must die. Then Christ shall close the mouth of hell, And bar them from the light of day, Then shall this all both shout and yell, When flesh and blood begins to fry, In firey flames most furiously, Without a hopes to be set free, For evermore therein to ly; This makes me dread when I shall die.