July 20. The 6th. day

I can but die but once, why should I fear? Whether I fear or not, 'tis all as near. O but my Soul, consider that sad time Gives every thing to death, leaves nothing thine. Except thy stinking Carcase, which shall be Dispos'd to weal or woe eternallie.

The Passing-Bell sounds harsh unto the ear Of all that do the King of Terrours fear. But let a man have but an interest In Jesus Christ, 'twill toll him to his rest. Lord, give me such a gift, none other I Crave or desire, whether I live or die.

Death puts an end to every thing below, It gives the killing wound, the fatal blow. Of those that here a while did but reside, But for a time, the last act is, They dy'd. Then grant, O Lord, that I may act this Part Well on the Stage; then Death, lo here's my Heart.

Scarce do I pass a day, but that I hear Some one or other's dead; and to my ear Methinks it is no news: but Oh! did I Think deeply on it, what it is to die. My Pulses all would beat, I should not be Drown'd in this Deluge of Securitie.

Think every day thy last, and ready be; And so th'uncertain hour shall welcome thee.