%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Christians nightly / Care. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/28/2011 30334

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R215928 WHen thou hast spent the longsom day, / in pleasure and delight, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 500 A Christians nightly / Care. A Christians nightly Care. A Christian's nightly Care. ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/28/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death religious concepts religious figures Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/28/2011 3:26:05 PM XBallad Meyer, Shannon Created XML Version of Ballad 4/28/2011 3:26:05 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/28/2011 3:26:05 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/28/2011 3:26:05 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/28/2011 3:26:05 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/21/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 5/4/2009 Checker Eric Nebeker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/4/2010 Checker Danielle Davey Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/17/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/17/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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WHen thou hast spent the longsom day, in pleasure and delight, And after toile, and wearie way, doee seek thy rest at night, Into thy pain and pleasure past, eke this in labour yet: Ere sleep close up thine eyes too fast, do not thy God forget. But search within thy secret thoghts, what deeds did thee befall: And if thou find a misse in ought, to God for mercie call, But if thou find nothing amisse, that thou canst call to minde: Yet evermore remember this, there is the more behinde: And look how well soever it be, that thou hast spent this day: It came of God, and not of [t]hee, so to direct thy way. Thus if thou try thy daily deeds, and pleasure in this pain: Thy life shall cleanse thy corn from weeds and thine shall be the gain. But if thy sleepy sinfull eye, will venter for to wink, Before thy wilfull will may try, how far thy soul may sink: Beware and walk, or else thy bed which soft and smooth is made: Shall heap more evil upon thy head, then stroak of enemies blade. But if thy pain procure thine ease, in bed as thou dost ly, Im sure it will not God displease, to sing this soberly. I see that sleep is lent me here, to ease my wearie bones, As death at length will once appear, to ease my grievous groanes. My daily sports with bellie fed, would cause my sleepy eye, To sleep so sound in quiet bed, whereby my soul might die: The stretching arms, the ganting breath, that in my bed I use: Are portraicts of the pangs of death, when life shall me refuse: And as my bed each sundry part, in shadows doth resemble: Then sundry shapes of death, whose dart will make my heart to tremble: My bed it selfe is like the grave, my sheets, the winding sheet: My cloathes, the moulds which I must have to cover me most meet. The hungry flaes, that lowp most fresh to worms I can compare, Which greedily will eat my flesh, and leave my bones right bare: The waking Cock that airly crowes, to put the night away, Puts me in minde the Trump that blowes before the latter day. Then as I rise up lustily, when sluggish sleep is past,
So hope I to rise joyfullie, to judgement at the last. Thus will I wake, thus will I sleep, thus will I hope to rise. Thus will I neither wail nor weep, but sing in holy guise. My bones shall in this bed remain, my soul in God shall trust: By whom I hope to rise again from death and earthly dust, All laud and praise be to the Lord, and also to his Sonne And likewise to the holy Ghost. and so my song is done.