The Sorrowful Mother, OR, The Pious Daughters Last Farewell.  

She patiently did run her Race,  
believed the World of Truth;   

And Death did willingly embrace,  
tho' in her blooming Youth.   
To the Tune of, Troy Town.  
This may be printed, R. P.  
 
 
 

Dear Mother, I alas! must leave  
the pleasures of this life, and you,  
Yet never seem to sigh or grieve,  
although I bid the world adieu;  
Tho' Death now my life destroy,  
Yet we shall meet again in joy.   

My Daughter dear, and is it so?  
that I indeed must part with thee;  
This fills my heart with grief and woe;  
from sorrow I shall ne'er be free;  
But languish here in deep Dispair,  
My grief is more than I can bear.   

Dear Mother, do not thus lament,  
my joys abundantly increase,  
To leave this world I am content,  
for I shall now lie down in peace.  
Such moan for me you need not make,  
Sure he that gives may freely take.   

To his good will I ought agree,  
but as thou art my Daughter dear,  
I weep and do lament to see  
that Heaven's hand is so severe;  
To send thee to the silent Grave,  
Do greater sorrow can I have.   

O that I could but you enjoin  
to exercise your patience still,  
And never murmur nor repine,  
against the Lords most gracious will;  
For if he say, it shall be so,  
Why should I not be free to go?   

My feeble Carcase now is weak,  
therefore I say my dearest friends,  
Unto the Lord alone I seek,  
to gain a pardon for my Sins:  
That so my Conscience may be clear,  
Death's cruel Dart I'd never fear.   

For it will me from grief release,  
as soon as he the stroke shall give,  
I having made my perfect peace,  
I now had rather die then life:  
Alas! what is this present Life,  
But sorrow, trouble, care and strife.   

Her Friends was filled with grief and woe,  
so that they could not we I refrain  
From tears which did in sorrow flow,  
they wrung their hands and wept amain  
With fainting v●ice, O then said she,  
Weep for your Sins and not for me.   

For I am going where I shall  
Be happy to Eternity;  
Therefore to God for Mercy call,  
as knowing you must follow me:  
No Mortal in the world is free  
From Death's Usurping Tyranny.   

Tho' some you see in Pride appears,  
adorned in Silk and sweet Perfume,  
Althou they flourish many year;  
yet Death at last will be their Doom  
they then must change their garments 〈◊〉  
For a poor shroud or Winding-Sheet.   

Consider well what I have said,  
for I must leave you now, said she  
For here behold all round my Bed,  
sweet Messengers that waits for me  
Who on their Wings will me convey,  
Where peace and joys will ne'er decay.   

This does much comfort now afford,  
as knowing they my Soul will bring  
Into the presence of the Lord,  
where blessed Saints and Angels Sir  
Then with a dying sigh, said she,  
Sweet Saviour now I come to thee.   

When she out of this world did go,  
her Mother's sorrow was not small,  
Each friend did manifest her woe,  
by tears, which did like showers fall:  
No tongue is able to express,  
Their sorrow, grief, and heaviness.   

A tender Mother did express  
Those words unto her friends, and fa●●…  
My grief and sorrow is the less,  
to see the happy end she made:  
a worthy pattern may she be,  
To Damsels now of each degrees.    

Printed for I. Deacon, at the Angel in Gild spur-street.