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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47
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.
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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.
48
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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.
![]() | Songs of Sion | ![]() |