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1My soul, why art thou full of trouble
2And overwhelmed with grief?
3Dost thou not know this world’s a bubble
4And cannot yield relief?
5This life’s a dream of mirth or sorrow
6Envelopéd in night;
Resurrection’s1like the morrow,
8As full of life as light.
9Then slight these
10Think thou of better things.
her4pleasures and her joys,
12Nought but repentance springs.
13Thy mortal nature ne’er deplore,
14Let Death work all her spite;
15For thou shalt live, when Death’s no more,
17What, though thou into ashes turn,
18Thy dust will find a tomb
19Within some safe and silent urn
20In black Oblivion’s womb.
21Whether thou water dost increase,
fire, or air, or earth6;
23Yet am I sure to rest in peace;
26Of this thou mayest resolve:
27Some lamb, or dove, then to appear,
28No toad shall thee
31Or rolling revolution,
32All ends in thy salvation.
33Nothing shall then afflict my soul
34That passeth here below;
35For I above the highest
ere12long shall go.
37Forget I shall, then, my
38And all my past annoys
39Shall swallowed be
crowned15with endless joys.