Page:Cogitations upon death, or, The mirror of man's misery (1).pdf/3

 Then when my breath begins to fail, My feet and hands do lose their might, My fear is for the fiends of hell! For they come flying on a flight. And every one shall see that sight, For at our ending they shall be, Reaving our souls, if they have right; This makes me dread when I should die. And then I fear that bitter pain, How death shall come and break my heart With many thratch and grievous groan, When he shall strike me with his dart. He will make me to feel the smart, And sting of death most cruely, Before my life from me depart; This makes me dread when I shall die. And then I fear this wilsome way, Where I must wend when I am gone, For none come back by night nor day, Their friends and neighbours to forewarn, Whether they be in joy or pain, They must remain continually, For we are valued at our worth; This makes me dread, when I should die. I fear what shall become of me, In that great day of God's just wrath, Then furious flames of fire on high, O'rspread the surface of the earth,