Classic Poem

the soull longing for death, eyes the
resurection, and future hapynese of the
body.

Oh death come, come
And fecth me home
The days, and hours, to me seem long
Ere thou these sinfull fetters strong
Break of from me
and set me free.

When in the grave
A place I have
To me twill be a bed of rest
A pleasing, sweet, perfumed nest
'cause Christ when dead
their laid his head.

How can it be
but sweet to me
To be for some short time confin'd
Where Christ, such sweetnese left behind
As still doth smell
in each dark cell.

My head, & king
took out the sting
When on the crose, he triumphed
Death was by him, then captive led
and he a rose
in spight of foes.

And so shall we
unto him flee
Out of the grave wherin we dwell
By the voice of the archangell
when he us shall
out of them call.

The body then
shall be ag'en
unto the soull reunited
All drosinese b'ing from it fled
it then shall fly
bove the sky.

At gods right hand
ther it shall stand
The sentence of absolution
And pardon for what here t'hath done
it then shall hear
with its own ear.

Then it shall reign
and still remain
With Christ pertaking of his blise
Folowing him, where e're he is
delighting still
to doe his will.

Eternally
we then shall eye
The beauty of our Crowned king
Whilst we, his love, and praise do sing
and still adore
him ever more.