I. Ye Christians, pluck your Courage up;
Shake off your Souls' Oppression!
If you'd avoid the gen'ral Cup
Of God's own Visitation.
Let us confess his Judgments just,
And ADAM'S Sons but transient Dust;
From Death none is exempted.
II. Lord, we resign into thy Hands
Our Body, Soul and Spirit:
We come and go at thy Commands;
Death is our real Merit.
Whilst dwelling in this sinful Clay,
Pain will attend us ev'ry Way;
But Joy we hope hereafter.
III. No Corn can yield the proper Fruit,
Except 'tis sown and bury'd;
Our Flesh must moulder to the Root,
Before it can be carry'd
To that unutterable Bliss,
Where CHRIST, our blest Redeemer, is
Prepar'd to meet his Lovers.
IV. Why shou'd we dread the Thoughts of Death
In daily Convesation,
Being convin'd, by ev'ry Breath,
Of our inconstant Station?
Had we the good old SIMEON'S Sense,
We'd joy with him to go from hence
In th'Arms of our Redeemer.
V. Our Breath infirm on God depends;
From him's our Preservation;
'Tis he that Guardian-Angels sends
To further our Salvation:
And, as a Hen protects her Brood
From Birds of prey, that seek their Blood,
So doth the Lord his Children.
VI. 'Wake or asleep, in Life or Death,
We are in god's Possession:
Baptiz'd in CHRIST, we're brought by Faith,
T'approach God's Habitation:
What we have lost in ADAM'S Fall,
CHRIST has recover'd for us all;
Prais'd be the Lord of Mercy.