The fift muse.
1
What losse is this svveet soule to loose
This 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 Saincts
In 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 knovve
To 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 see
Thine 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 & rage
Of 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 plains
Of 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.
