Essex's Last Voyage to the Haven of Happiness

Welcome, sweete Death, the kindest friend I have, This fleshly prison of my sowle unlocke, With all the speede thou canst, provide my grave, Gett an axe ready, and prepare the blocke; Unto the queene I have a debt to paye, This Febrewarye's five and twentieth day.

Come, Patience, come, and take me by the hande, And trew Repentance, teach myne eyes to weepe; Humyllity, in neede of thee I stande, My sowle desires thy company to keepe; Base worldly thoughts, vanish out of my mynde, Leave not a spotte of you, nor yours behinde.

Unto thy glory, Lorde, I do confesse, Vain worldly pleasures have my youth misled; I have inclyn'd to luste and wantonnesse; My synnes are more then haires upon my hed; Without, within, and round on every side, Folly, uncleanes, vanity and pride.

Forgett, forgive, lett not thy wrath incense, Sweete Saviour Christ, my mediatour be; O pitty, Lord, O pardon myne offence, From throne of grace lett mercy looke on mee; View not the evills in justice I have done, Lay all my faultes on thy synne-salvinge son.

And, Lorde, lett my corruptions never rise As wittnesses of horrour, wrath and feare, Tho' synne hath suited me in hell's disguise, Graunt me the weddinge-garment saints do weare; Sweete Jesus, make thy bloud the only meane To washe my stayned sowle unspotted, cleane.

Poure on my harte the sweetest streames of grace, And feed my hungry hopes with heavenly love; From my complaynts turn not away thy face, Reach me thy hande to lifte my thoughts above, That I before thy presence may appeere, Altho' this filthy lumpe of flesh stay here.

Before I had a beeinge, life or breath, By thy great goodness I obtain'd creation; When I was captive in the jayle of death, Thy mercy did redeeme me to salvation; Thou wounded wast, to heale the woundes syn gave me, And thou didst dye, only of love to save me.