English poem
July 23. The second day
by Philip Pain
Whilst in this world I stay, some hopes have I That I shall reign in Heaven eternally: But when my time is past, and I am gone, There's no hope left for me to build upon. Lord, grant me full assurance whilst that I Am here, so willing I shall be to dye.
We are but babes of yesterday, and we Are sons and daughters of Mortalitie. From dust we came, to dust we must again, And to the grave with speed we fly amain. Lord, let the thoughts of Death possess my heart, That so Thee and my Soul may never part.
How bruitish, Oh how sensless are all those, Who to the World do so themselves dispose, As if there were no God to serve, no Death That's coming to deprive them of their breath? Lord help me so to live, that I may bee Never forgetful of my Death or Thee.
How loth, how backward are we all to leave This transitory World? Let Death bereave Us of those Mundane things, yet if we still Resolve to live and dye to Christ, what ill Can happen to us? Lord, before I dye Let me a better Kingdome farre espy.
As the great God still addes unto my dayes, It's but new matter for me him to praise.