Page:Cogitations upon death, or, The mirror of man's misery (1).pdf/19

 Quite thro' the street with pleasant sound the blood of life doth flow, Upon the bank on ev'ry side, the Tree of Life doth grow, These trees each month do yield their fruit, for evermore they spring; And all the nations in the world, to thee their honours bring. Jerusalem, God's dwelling place, full sore I long to see, O that my sorrows had an end, that I might dwell with thee! There David stands with harp in hand, into the heavenly choir, A thousand times that man was blest, who might this music hear. There Mary sings Magnificat, with tunes surpassing sweet, And all the virgins bear their part, sitting around her feet. To Deum doth St Ambrose sing, St Austin doth the like, Old Simeon and Zachary, have not their songs to seek. There Magdalen hath left her moan, and chearfully doth sing, With all blest saints, whose harmony, through every street doth ring.