THE MAP OF MORTALITIE.
As by first Adam all doe die
So in me all are made alive.
Deaths swallowed up in victory,
And I aeternall life do give.
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PRoude earth behould, as thou art we shall bee.
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Against the grave, can no defence be made.
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Dust will to dust, as thou art once were wee:
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Worldes vaineglorie doth thus to nothing fade.
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Man doth consume as water spilt on sande.
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Like lightnings flash, his life is seene and gone:
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Our part is plaide, your part is now in hand,
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Death strikes unwares, and striking spareth none.
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Life is a debt to death, all men must die:
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But when, where, how, the Lord alone doth knowe.
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As death leaves thee, even so undoubtedlie
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Judgement shall find thee when last trump shall blowe.
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Consider this o man whilst it is day,
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Thine owne Christes death, for thee (if thou be his)
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Vile worldes deceites, helles torments, heavens joy.
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Provide to day: in night no comfort is,
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In season calme, with Noah build an arke:
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With Joseph lay up store in plenties tyme:
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How to be savd, let be thy chiefest cark,
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Returne to God, repent thee of thy cryme:
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That come death late, earlie, or when he list,
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It be birth day of thine eternitie.
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Of righteous men live thou the life in Christ:
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Then sure the death of righteous shalt thou die.
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Die to the world, the pompes thereof forsake,
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That Christ may come and live with thee in love:
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So in the world, when thou shalt farewell take
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Thou maist goe dwell with Christ in heaven above.
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Youth well to live, age well to die should care:
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In life, for death: in death for life prepare.
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Sithe Adams fall did fill the world with sinne,
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Whereby mans dayes (few) dayes of sorrow bin,
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His life, no life, rather calamitie,
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And worldes best pleasures, but meere vanitie:
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Sith beautie, strength and wit, flowers fading bee,
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Man made of dust, to dust must turne againe:
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Sith all must die, by gods most just decree,
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And death no torment is, but rest from paine:
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Why should fraile flesh feare death, that ends all woes,
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That salves all sores, and takes man from his foes?
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His shape though ougly tis, he bringeth peace,
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Stints strife, ends cares, gives life, and wisht-for ease.
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Men dying, sleepe: sleeping, from travell rest,
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To live in joy for ever with the blest.
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Rather embrace, then feare so good a friend:
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Yet wish not for him; that in sinne doth end:
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But greater sinne, to feare him sure it is,
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That troubles ends, and brings eternall blisse.
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To faithfull soule, deaths full of comfortes sweete,
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That longeth with his Christ in Cloudes to meete.
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In earth nought sweeter is to wisedomes sense,
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Then to prepare for peace-full passage hence.
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For, wise man all his life should meditate
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On death: that come he sodaine, soone, or late,
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He is prepared to entertaine him so,
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As Captives do, redeeming friends from woe.
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Live well thou maist: but canst not live long. Even
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So live, that death may leave thee fit for heaven:
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And feare not death; pale, ouglie though he be.
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Thou art in thrall, he comes to set thee free.
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