On the DEATH of Mr. JOHN BRADFORD

Let no disciple 'bove his master be, God's servants are not from afflictions free. God, whom he loves, chastises every son; Strait is the way to the celestial throne. These words whilst, Bradford, thou didst ruminate, No human threats, no fears, no dismal state, Could shock thy steady soul; no fiery dart Of Satan's malice wound thy constant heart: But thou didst freely (arm'd with grace divine). Thy body to the flaming pile resign.