1O me, how sore, how sad is my poor heart;
2How loath my soul is from my flesh to part!
3Hath forty years’ acquaintance caused such love
rottenness that thou wilt ungrateful prove
5To that invisible light of which we are beams?
6Wilt thou leave substances (my soul) for dreams?
7The scene is sable; horrid tragedies
8Are acted here before my weeping eyes:
9Art thou not weary of this dismal stage?
10Methinks I’ve lived a tedious pilgrimage,
11And now the
sepulchre I’ve reached at last.
12My soul, for love or fear, make thou more haste;
13For shame, rouse up a little! Mend thy pace.
14’Tis glory beckons, and thou’rt led by grace.
15Then never care, though death abrupt thy
wants here shall finished be in glory.
17Then farewell, empty honor, pleasure, wealth,
18And what crowns all, farewell my youth, and health.
19To you, my friends, I will not bid adieu:
20For in a happier place I shall meet you.