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The Soul's Garment.

Great Nature Cloaths the Soul, which is but thin,
With fleshly Garments, which the Fates do Spin,
And when these Garments are grown Old and Bare,
With Sickness torn, Death takes them off with Care,
Doth Fold them up in peace and quiet rest,
And lays them Safe within an Earthly Chest,
Then Scours them well, and makes them sweet and clean,
Fit for the Soul to wear those Cloaths again.