A Christians nightly Care.  

WHen thou hast spent the longsom day,  
in pleasure and delight,  
And after toil, and weary way,  
does seek thy rest at night,  
Into thy pain and pleasure past,  
eke this in labour yet:  
Ere sleep close up thine eyes too fast,  
do not thy God forget.   

But search within thy secret thoughts,  
what deeds did thee he fall:  
And if thou find a miss in aught,  
to God for mercy call,  
But if thou find nothing amiss,  
that thou canst call to mind:  
Yet evermore remember this,  
there is the more behind:   

And look how well soever it be,  
that thou hast spent this day:  
It came of God, and not of thee,  
so to direct thy way.  
Thus if thou try thy daily deeds,  
and pleasure in this pain:  
Thy life shall cleanse thy corn from weeds  
and thine shall be the gain.   

But if thy sleepy sinful eye,  
will venture for to wink,  
Before thy wilful will may try,  
how far thy soul may sink:  
Beware and walk, or else thy bed  
which soft and smooth is made:  
Shall heap more evil upon thy head,  
than stroke of enemy's blade.   

But if thy pain procure thine ease,  
in bed as thou dostly,  
I'm sure it will not God displease,  
to sing this soberly.  
I see that sleep is lent me here,  
to ease my weary bones,  
As death ●t length will once appear,  
to ease my grievous groans.   

My daily sports with belly fed,  
would cause my sleepy eye,  
To sleep so sound in quiet bed,  
whereby my soul might die:  
The stretching arms, the ganting breath,  
that in my bed I use:  
Are portraicts of the pangs of death,  
when life shall me refuse:   

And as my bed each sundry part,  
in shadows doth resemble:  
Then sundry shapes of death, whose dart  
will make my heart to tremble:  
My bed itself is like the grave,  
my sheets, the winding sheet:  
My , the moulds which I must have  
to cover me most meet.   

The hungry flaes, that lowp most fresh  
to worms I can compare,  
Which greedily will eat my flesh,  
and leave my bones right bare:  
The waking Cock that airly crows,  
to put the night away,  
Puts me to mind the Trump that blows  
before the latter day,   

Then as I rise us lustily,  
when sluggish sleep is past,  
So hope I to rise joyfully,  
to judgement at the last.  
Thus will I wake, thus will I sleep,  
thus will I hope to rise.  
Thus will I neither wail nor weep,  
but sing in holy guise.   

My bones shall in this bed remain,  
my soul in God shall trust:  
By whom I hope to rise again  
from death and earthly dust,  
All laud and praise be to the Lord,  
and also to his Son  
And likewise to the holy Ghost,  
and so my song is done.    

Sad Marshal to the singing Lark,  

O Blessed bird, whose soaring Song,  
declares the lightsome day!  
I'm forced to bless thy little tongue,  
for thy solacious Lay,  
Yea, whilst I think on thine estate,  
and hear thine Harmony,  
I find myself to be ungrate,  
who sad and silent lie;   

For thou hast neither Lands, nor Rent,  
nor Riches laid in store:  
And yet dost sing as full content,  
and with thy Song dost soar,  
But I to whom the loving Lord  
hath been more liberal,  
I sigh and cannot sing a word,  
nor move no mirth at all.  
What is the cause that I deplore,  
whilst thou so sweetly sings,  
But that I bunt to have much more  
than yet my fortune brings:  
But thou into thy mind's at rest,  
contented with thy Lot:  
Whilst I with cares am thus oppressed,  
thou chant'st a cheerful note,   

The mean to move me unto mirth,  
then is to be content:  
And eke with thee to leave the Earth,  
and pierce the Firmament;  
For here below is nothing else,  
but cross, with changing toys,  
But they that in the highest dwell  
have everlasting Joys.   

My blessed bird, tire not thy tune,  
move on thy music sweet,  
For I with cares was quite undone,  
till thou revived my Spirit,  
And now, since thou hast me restored,  
with thee I'll soar, and sing:  
Giving all laud unto the Lord,  
my high and heaven lie King   
Finis, quod Marshal.   

The Reply of the Lark.  

O Man! sigh on, for thou hast cause  
to sorrow for thy sin,  
GOD unto me hath given no Laws,  
to lead my life therein:  
But by his will be me ordains,  
to sing, and show the day:  
But thou, O man! who grief sustains;  
should bow thy knee, and prey.   

Man! thou shouldst be more sad than I,  
more dangerous is thy state:  
The world, the flesh, and old ●●●…by,  
thou hast with to debate.  
High is the prize, if thou take care,  
that GOD shall to thee gi●●  
Hard is the case, if thou despa●●●,  
or yet secure lie live.   

Short while thou hast for to deplore:  
far shorter I to sing.  
A year, or two, or little mor●,  
to me my date shall bring,  
And when the winter waxeth bold,  
my lays shall lurk full lov:  
For I must shield me in some hold,  
till brumal blasts o'reblow.   

Yea, fragrant flowers in summer fair  
shall then both droop and die:  
Fish in the floods, fowls in the Air,  
have their adversity.  
For every time is not the Spring:  
no state stands ay at ones  
There is a time for us to sting,  
a time for sighs and groans.   

Take every state to come from God,  
both wealth, want, weal, and woe,  
And when he lays on thee his Rad,  
thy visitation know:  
Yea, when he makes thy cup to flow,  
think on adversity:  
Lest that thy wealth thy wit o'rgrow;  
in thy prosperity.   

Yet le● no sadness thee o'rthrow,  
for trifles which thou tires:  
Oft whilst t●e earth is clad with snow,  
the Sun most brightly shines,  
Though for un●●●wn, be not afraid  
each cloud is not a shower  
When grief is gone, and thou art glad,  
it shall be sweet that's sour   

No mortal man may climb the top  
of full felicity:  
We do but seldom hit our Scope,  
how low soever it be,  
Though thou were't mounted to the height  
whereto thy thoughts aspir●s.  
Some higher object out o● sight  
would kindle new desires.   

Then let no world lie vanity  
in vain oppress thy spirit,  
Come. soar with me above the Sky,  
to thy Redeemer sweet,  
Sing of thy lasting liberty,  
when all these pains are past:  
Sing of thy joyful jubilee,  
thou shalt enjoy at last,   

So shall thy wishes be complete,  
to the most high degree:  
So shall thy present cross be sweet,  
how sour soever it be,  
Then sing, and sigh; sigh and sing,  
till thou enjoy that Day  
Of perfect joy, with Christ thy King,  
where thou shalt sing for ay.   
FINIS.