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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Songs of Sion | ||
47
The ninth muse.
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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
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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 | ||