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 goe
In 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 graue
To 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 last
Our 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 corps
Through 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.
