Songs of Sion Set for the ioy of gods deere ones, vvho sitt here by the brookes of this vvorlds Babel, & vveepe vvhen they thinke on Hierusalem vvhich is on highe. By W. L. [i.e. William Loe] |
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A months minde.
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![]() | Songs of Sion | ![]() |
A months minde.
To Thinke on death, & muse on the graue, that the feare of death may not be fierce vvhen Christ shall call vs out of this vvorld
The first muse.
1
O eare soule thou hast thought of thy endAnd novve muse on the vvay,
The first part is a life vvell spent,
The last is deaths doomes day.
2
Shall I call that the vvay of vvoeBy vvhich vve passe to blisse?
O sure there is noe vvay but that
To bring me vvhere Christ is.
3
And vvhat is death novve dost thou thinke?But dovvne vvith all the stickes,
Of vvhich this earth, & tent of ours
Is made, that gainst god kickes.
4
Death is the farevvell of old frends,Till they meete to be blest,
Death is the iudge to quitt frō iayle,
The soule that longs for rest.
5
Death makes the corps of clay to sleepBut vvakes the soule to see,
Death payes the debte, & teares the bone
And all to sett thee free.
6
There is a death of deaths my souleThe death of hell, and vvoe,
But Christ his death hath payd for that
His vvord doth tell thee soe.
7
O Christ my soule doth thinke on theeAnd thankes thee day, and night
That thou hast rid me frō this death
By thy great povver, and might.
1. Thought.
Thy Christ o soule hath set them free vvho through feare of death vvere all their life time in bonds and thrall. Heb. 2. 15.
The second muse.
1
O muse my soule sith thou art safe,Get home ene to thy rest,
For god to praise in songs, & psalmes
I hold it for the best.
2
My soule hovve canst thou feare to goeIn stepps vvhere Christ hath bine;
He hath to graue led thee the vvay
O then leaue of to sinne.
3
For hire of sinne is death, and graueTo death are deepe fell vvayes;
There needs noe kinues, noe cords, noe svvords,
It comes on nights, and dayes.
4
One by a slatt, a flye, a grape,One by a bit of meate
One by the ayre, a flovver, a thorne
Comes to his doome so great.
5
Why then my soule feare not this death,The sting of it is lost
The bed of graue is svveete, and safe
Through Christ his care, & cost.
6
Our sinne made death our foe at lastOur frend Christ hath it made;
By death vve pass the port of rest
When all things else doe fade.
7
What if this giude doe lead my corpsThrough graue both darke & fell?
Whiles at that tyme my soule doth liue
And vvith my Christ doth dvvell.
2. Thought.
O my soule ioy, & be glad for thy Christ hath made thee say to death, o death vvhere is thy death, o graue vvhere is thy povver. 1. Cor. 15. 55.
The third muse.
1
What if my frends doe mourne for meAnd sobb, and sigh in moane;
What if my seed doe crie, and roare,
And greeue, and vvaile, and grone?
2
This vvhile my soule sees him that vvasOnce dead but novve doth liue,
And that for aye my Christ in god,
My lord that life doth giue.
3
What care I vvho doth shutt mine eiesWhē death doth make me see
As I am seene of god in Christ
And then vvith him shall be.
4
What if my life the vvorld doe notSet out in vvords of fame
Whiles I liue vvith the god of life
What care I for the same.
5
If death shovvld still be foe to meHe harmes but my vvorst part,
My best part farre out of his reach
Scornes both his ruth, and dart.
6
And more then this my corps once deadFeeles noe more sting of death,
But then my soule is free, and liues
In god by Christ his breath.
7
Novve then my soule sith thou dost beareTvvo things vvrapt vp in breast
Lett each part turne, and goe, & see
His seate, his scite, his rest.
3. Thought.
O god they that dvvelt in a darke place by thee haue seene the light, & they that vvalkt in the shade of death thou hast brought them to the light vvith great ioy, & peace. Esay. 9. 2.
The fourth muse.
1
Shrinke not deare soule at sight of deathNor faint thou at gods call
Hovve oft hast thou hard bells to passe
For frends, for foes, for all.
2
Hovve oft hast thou the sicke bede seeneOf vvights in woe most rife
Hovve oft haue things bine done to death
And all to giue thee life.
3
And canst thou hope that some vvay elseFor thee is made in sence
Whē kings, & Prests, & rich, & poore
And all must thus goe hence
4
Passe on my soule, & sing, & ioyIn god that makes the graue,
A place for thee to pass to bliss
And knovves vvhat thou vvouldst haue.
5
Hovve oft hast thou seene eies fall closedAnd heard by dint of svvord
Hovve oft vaine men in field haue fought
In fence of a vaine vvord
6
What thē novve dost thou feare my souleThe stage of death is bed,
And graue that rests our bones in peace
That here on earth haue fed
7
Let them feare death vvhose hart, & mindIs more sicke thē their face
Hovve canst thou feare since novve thy Christ
Hath shed his bloud for grace.
4. Thought.
O giue me light that am set in a darke place, & shade of death, and giude, me by thy good grace o Christ to the vvay of peace. Luck. 1. 79.
The fift muse.
1
What losse is this svveet soule to looseThis corps this flesh, this skinn?
When thou shalt vvinn thy god in Christ,
Thy selfe fred from thy sinn.
2
When thou shalt see the soules the SainctsIn ioy, in rest, in blisse
Whē thou this vvorld a sea of sinne
A sinke, a stye, shalt misse?
3
Of change most blest for thee to knovveTo rid thee of these raggs,
And thy selfe clad in robes of state
In spight of death his brags.
4
This skin, this shame, this dust, this dung,This earth, this mire, this clay
Shall shine as sunne in raies of rest
When thou shalt see that day.
5
Thine eies that vvere full sad to seeThine oft, and ill done deeds;
Shall then see Christ still in thy sight
Where grace, & good still feeds.
6
These eares that heare the ruth & rageOf tongue, as hott as hell;
Shall then the voice of Christ still heare
And saincts vvith him that dvvell.
7
And thē this tongue that novv doth plainsOf greefe, of vvoe, of gall
Shall tune a part in that svveet quire
With Christ, vvith saincts, vvith all.
5. Thought.
O my soule thy Christ hath tooke part vvith flesh, & bloud, that by death he might beate dovvne him that had the povver of death. Heb. 2. 14.
The sixt muse.
1
Novve vvhat is death thē say my souleIst not a sleepe in graue?
They that did feele the vvorst of it
The stile of sleepe it gaue.
2
And aske thy corps, o my svveet souleWhē full vvith toyle of day,
If it hath not bine glad to rest
As cloyd vvith a foule vvay.
3
And novve in this svveete sleepe of deathThou art sure to be blest
Why like a child vvilt thou not goe
To this thy bed thy rest?
4
Didst thou ere see a bird in cage,Sitt still vvith in the grate?
That might flie foorth to vvoods, to groues
To meete his loue, his mate?
5
Did Paule vvhen god his gyues had burstAnd rid him out of iayle?
Crie out, & say, not yet o lord
I doe not like this bayle.
6
Paule slepte tvvixt tvvo that did him keepeBut vvhē that he vvas free
And rid frō iayle did he once turne
To iayle those bonds to see.
7
O my svveete soule didst ere thou seeAt sea men sing their songs?
And vvhē to lād they cāe did greeue
And tell their frends of vvrongs.
6. Thought.
O heare me o lord, my god, & giue light to mine eies least I sleepe the sleep of death. Psal. 30. 3.
The seuenth muse.
1
Hast thou o soule no mind to restIn all thy paine, and toyle?
But vvilt thou still goe on, & drudge
By lott on sea, on soyle.
2
Hovve oft haue vvights in vvoe, & greefeBought death to ease their paine
Hath death found thee, & vvilt thou not
To goe from greefe be faine
3
Doth name of death the fright my souleWhat if mē call sleepe death
Wilt thou be fraid to close thine eies
Or feare to loose thy breath.
4
What hurt vvill cōe to thee by thatThe first man vvas in sleepe
Whē god a vvife made him for helpe
The man in ioy to keepe.
5
And vvhat if novve thy god for [illeg.]Whilst thou dost sleepe in [illeg.]
Doth make thy soule a spouse to [illeg.]
His face, his grace to haue[illeg.]
6
My death o soule but parts the frēdsThat each hath led the vvay,
And novve shake hands but for a space
Till meete in rest thy may.
7
Goe then my soule to this sure gainePart vvith a frend a space
The tyme vvill come vvhen this dust
Shall see thy Christ his face.
7. Thought.
The due of sinne my soule is death & graue, & hell. but the gift of god is life, ioy, and blisse by Christ my lord, & god Rom, 6. 13.
The eight muse.
1
Tell me my soule vvas thou not lothAt first to ioyne vvith me?
Why novve art loth to part vvith that,
Which much vvoe letts thee see.
2
Dost thou not heare the vvise to say,The day of death is cheefe;
And is more good then day of birth
Which brings thee vvoe, & greefe,
3
Dost not thou trust the vvise mans vvordsOn throne in state in glee,
That thus did say of death, & birth
Then harke thou once to me.
4
The lord of life that knevve deaths forceDoth say that they are blest
That die in god, our lord, our Christ
And from their vvoes haue rest.
5
O death hovve svveete is that thy restTo vvights in vale of teares
Hovve svveete is thy grim face to those
That liue in vvoe, & feares?
6
O soule vvhat man is so fell mad,And so in soule cast dovvne?
To hide himselfe in base things here
To loose by them a crovvne
7
My soule then see, & say in fineWith men of gods ovvne lore.
For me to die it is more good
Then liue on this ville shore.
8. Thought.
O my soule if by one mans sinne death did raigne by one, much more they vvhich haue much grace, & the gift of faith shall raigne in life by one Christ my lord and god. Rom. 5. 17.
The ninth muse.
1
What ayles thee o my soule, my deare,Such face, such feare to shevve?
Novve death doe come to cite thee home
Is all thy faith, but devve
2
Is death soe fearce, soe fell, to eies,To thoughts that vvas soe free;
It is a shame to thee my soule
Thou dost noe more Christ see.
3
Where is thy faith? in vvords thou couldstCall oft for death in life
Is all but talke? is all but smoke?
Where is thy hope so rife?
4
Hath thy svveete Christ novv sent for theeAnd art thou loth to goe?
Rouze vp thy selfe for shame o soule
And doe not serue him soe.
5
O lord raise vp this hart of mineThat faints, & droopes in death
O that J might thy cup once tast,
And liue in thy svveete breath.
6
The spright vvould come, but flesh is vveakeLord helpe this guest of thine,
And rid her from this flesh of sinne
Which is a broode of mine.
7
I come to thee, o lord I comeStreach forth thine hand to me,
O death, o graue vvhere is thy sting?
My crovvne, my god I see.
9. Thought.
They are blest that haue a part in the first life for on such the last death shall haue noe strength but they shal be preests of god, and of Christ. Apoc. 20. 6.
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