And with as active vigour run
My course as doth the nimble sun.
Sleep is a death; oh! make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die :
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
Howe'er I rest, great God, let me
Awake again at last with Thee.
And thus assured, behold I lie
Securely, or to wake or die.

These are my drowsy days; in vain
I do now wake to sleep again :

Oh! come that hour, when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake for ever.

20

25

30

Sir Thomas Browne.

CXXXII

THE VALEDICTION.

Vain world, what is in thee?
What do poor mortals see,
Which should esteemèd be
Worthy their pleasure?
Is it the mother's womb,
Or sorrows which soon come,
Or a dark grave and tomb,

Which is their treasure?
How dost thou man deceive

By thy vain glory?

Why do they still believe

Thy false history?

Is it children's book and rod,
The labourer's heavy load,

Poverty undertrod,

The world desireth?

Is it distracting cares,

Or heart-tormenting fears,
Or pining grief and tears,
Which man requireth?
Or is it youthful rage,
Or childish toying;

Or is decrepit age

Worth man's enjoying?

Is it deceitful wealth,

Got by care, fraud, or stealth,

Or short uncertain health,

Which thus befool men?
Or do the serpent's lies,
By the world's flatteries
And tempting vanities,
Still overrule them?

20

25

30

Run themselves out of breath

To overtake it.

Hell is not had for naught,
Damnation's dearly bought,
And with great labour sought;

They'll not forsake it.

Their souls are Satan's fee

He'll not abate it;
Grace is refused that's free,
Mad sinners hate it.

Is this the world men choose,
For which they heaven refuse,
And Christ and grace abuse,

And not receive it?
Shall I not guilty be

Of this in some degree,

If hence God would me free,

And I'd not leave it;

90

95

100

My soul, from Sodom fly,

105

Lest wrath there find thee;

Thy refuge-rest is nigh;

Look not behind thee!

There's none of this ado,
None of the hellish crew;
God's promise is most true,
Boldly believe it.

My friends are gone before,
And I am near the shore;

My soul stands at the door,

O Lord, receive it!

It trusts Christ and his merits,

The dead He raises;

Join it with blessed spirits,

Who sing thy praises.

Richard Baxter.

IIO

115

120

CXXXIII

HYMN FOR ADVENT; OR CHRIST'S COMING TO JERUSALEM IN TRIUMPH.

Lord, come away,

Why dost Thou stay?

Thy road is ready: and thy paths, made strait,
With longing expectation wait

The consecration of thy beauteous feet.
Ride on triumphantly; behold we lay
Our lusts and proud wills in thy way.

5

Hosanna! welcome to our hearts. Lord, here
Thou hast a temple too, and full as dear

As that of Sion; and as full of sin;

IO

Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein,

Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor;
Crucify them, that they may never more

Profane that holy place,

Where Thou hast chose to set thy face.

And then if our stiff tongues shall be

Mute in the praises of thy Deity,

The stones out of the temple wall

Shall cry aloud, and call

Hosanna! and thy glorious footsteps greet.

CXXXIV

BEYOND THE VEIL.

15

20

Jeremy Taylor.

They are all gone into the world of light,
And I alone sit lingering here;

Their very memory is fair and bright,

And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,

Like stars upon some gloomy grove,

Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,
After the sun's remove.

5