 | Pietatis Lachrymae Teares of deuotion |  |
Diues in his passion.
Rich men laugh at me your fill,
Since to laugh it is your will:
Make a iest of me and hell,
Till ye buy that I would sell.
Since to laugh it is your will:
Make a iest of me and hell,
Till ye buy that I would sell.
Christ did tell ye but in vaine,
Of my torture and my paine:
I, as ye, at hell did smile,
Sathan so did me beguile.
Of my torture and my paine:
I, as ye, at hell did smile,
Sathan so did me beguile.
Were I now to liue againe,
Life should be a liuing paine:
Ye should laugh, but I would weepe,
I would wake, when ye should sleepe.
Life should be a liuing paine:
Ye should laugh, but I would weepe,
I would wake, when ye should sleepe.
Ye should not relieue the poore,
I would so bestowe my store:
You, not I, should hunt for hell,
I, not ye, with God would dwell,
I would so bestowe my store:
You, not I, should hunt for hell,
I, not ye, with God would dwell,
But ô my soule plung'd in paine,
Doe not Eccho thus in vaine:
Worldlings laugh to heare thee moane,
Harder hearts, then hardest stone.
Doe not Eccho thus in vaine:
Worldlings laugh to heare thee moane,
Harder hearts, then hardest stone.
For the raine makes flintes to mourne,
When that Athiests, teares doe scorne:
But those scorners all shall dye,
And hell laugh when they shall crye.
When that Athiests, teares doe scorne:
But those scorners all shall dye,
And hell laugh when they shall crye.
| Pietatis Lachrymae Teares of deuotion | |