Page:Cogitations upon death, or, The mirror of man's misery (1).pdf/2

 THE MIRROR OF MAN'S MISERY.

I such dread when I should die, Not knowing how, nor in what place, Thro' course of kind he comes to me, Into his arms would me embrace, He spares not the rich for their riches, Nor on the poor hath he pity, This causes me to say, Alas! And have such dread when I should die. When I lie sick on my death-bed, And all my life brought to an end; Then all the sins that e'er I did, Will all come fresh into my mind. Crying, We are all works of thine, And now we are to go with thee, To bear witness what thou hast done, Which makes me dread when I should die. Then growth of grief and great despair, Will melt my heart and break my gall, That for my flesh I took such care, But gain'd no graçe for my poor soul: And now no time remains at all, To mend my life that none may see, But go to judgement general, This makes me dread when I should die.