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55
A Thought of DEATH.
When on my sick Bed I languish,Full of sorrow, full of anguish,
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying,
My Soul just now about to take her flight
Into the Regions of eternal night;
Oh tell me you,
That have been long below,
What shall I do!
What shall I think, when cruel Death appears,
That may extenuate my fears!
Methinks I hear some Gentle Spirit say,
Be not fearful, come away!
Think with thy self that now thou shalt be free,
And find thy long expected liberty;
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Than in this Vale of Tears, and Misery.
Like Cæsar, with assurance then come on,
And unamaz'd attempt the Laurel Crown,
That lies on th' other side Death's Rubicon.
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