THE Vanity of Vain Glory.  

With good Advice to those who choose  
Immediate pleasures here,  
That they no longer can refuse,  
The thing which cost so dear.   
Tune, The glories of our birth and State.  
 

THe glories of our birth and state,  
are shadows notsubstantial things  
There is no armor against our fate  
death lays his Icy hands on kings▪  
sceptre and Crown must tumble down  
and in the dust be equal laid,  
With a poor crooked sigh and spade.   

Some men with swords do reap the field  
and plant fresh laurels where they kill,  
But their strong nerves at length must yield  
they tame but one another still,  
Early or late all bend to fate  
& must yield up their murmouring breath  
●hilst the pale Captive bleeds to death.   

The garland withers on your brow  
then boast no more your mighty deeds  
For on deaths purple Alter now  
see how the victor victored bléeds,  
All heads must come to the could tomb  
only the Actions of the just  
Smells sweet and blossoms in the dust.   

All things in this poor life are vain  
then for a change let us prepare,  
We must swim through a sea of pain  
before we reach that Heaven, where  
There's joys in store for evermore,  
and we shall be for ever blessed,  
From toil and labour then to rest.   

THen never cease to run that race  
which leads to everlasting bliss,  
Amongst the saints to take a place  
oh! what encouragement is this,  
Who would refuse that way to choose  
which leads to blessed eternity,  
From pains and sorrows to be free.   

While in this life to some so sweet  
all kind of wickedness abound,  
And with such crosses we do meet  
as all our comforts do confounded,  
There you shall be from passion free  
and hear no mournings nor complaints  
But praises sing amongst the saints.   

Infinite joys shall them attend  
who at that Haven do arrive,  
Where God himself shall be their friend  
and nothing ever shall deprive  
Them of that bliss, which they must miss  
who will not leave their vanity,  
But glory in debauchery   

That path which to destruction leads  
and loads the soul with heaps of sin,  
To many men more pleasure breeds,  
and they are more delighted in,  
Then that which brings all blessed things  
eternal joy and endless peace,  
Where bliss abounds and pains do cease.   

But mortal men are always prove  
their present pleasures for to choose,  
Eternal joys they let alone  
and thus by sin they're soul abuse  
What pitty 'tis that men should miss  
that happiness which cost so dear,  
For momentary pleasures here.   

Learn to be wise fond man in time  
while 'tis to day, your sins repent  
You may be cut off in your prime  
and then too late you may lament,  
In time return for fear you burn  
and in the lake of torments fry  
Whose flames will burn perpetually.    

Printed for F. coal. T. Vere. J. Wright. J. clerk W. Thackery. and T. Passenger.