Poetical Fragments, Poem 14 – Note
14. A Dialogue between Death and the Believer.
A Ruſtick Song, ſet to a pleaſant Tune.
Death.
COme with me poor Mortal,
Quickly come away:
My Name is Dreadful Death.
Through this narrow Portal.
Come without delay;
For here I'le ſtop thy Breath.
Preſently my Dart
Shall pierce thee to the Heart,
And away thy Life I'le have:
It is in vain to fly,
Or any Friend to try:
For there's none that can thee ſave.
Believer.
2.
Welcome friendly Death;
What canſt thou do to me,
'That I have cauſe to fear?
Though thou ſhalt ſtop my breath,
Yet I in Life ſhall be,
When thou ſhalt not be there.
And though the Gate be ſtreight,
It leads unto that height,
Where I ſhall defie thy Dart:
Willingly I yield,
As armed by that Shield,
That will ſave my nobler part.
Death.
Come away frail Man,
And open now thy Breaſt,
And take thy mortal wound:
Let Friends do what they can,
And Phyſick do its beſt,
They'l all too weak be found.
Lay now aſide thy mirth,
And turn unto thy Earth:
I will give thee the fatal blow:
It is in vain to wiſh;
Thou canſt not ſave thy Fleſh:
For my Power thou ſhalt know.
Believer.
4.
Readily I come,
As being not the firſt,
That hath paſt through thy door:
Thou ſhalt but help me home,
When thou haſt done thy worſt;
And thou ſhalt be no more:
By drawing out my blood,
Thou ſhalt but do me good;
And eaſe me of my grief:
And though thou look ſo grim,
Thou ſhalt bring me to him,
That will give me full relief.
Death.
5.
Thy Fleſh I'le turn to Clay,
And all thy Bones to Duſt;
And leave thee in the Grave.
Make no longer ſtay,
For come away thou muſt;
It is in vain to crave:
Cloathed from head to feet,
But with a Winding-ſheet,
My Priſoner thou ſhalt be;
Bearing my loathſom Mark,
Thou ſhalt lie in the dark,
And the face of no man ſee.
Believer.
6.
Thou ſhalt but dig the ground,
Where God his Seed will ſow,
And raiſe it at the Spring:
And there I ſhall be found,
And Chriſt his own will know,
And unto Glory bring:
When here I ceaſe to live,
A better Life he'l give,
Which thou ſhalt not deſtroy:
And though This Life thou ſpill,
My Soul thou canſt not kill,
Nor again with fears anoy.
7.
When thou put'ſt out theſe Eyes,
I ſhall receive my ſight:
My Day will all be Noon:
Above the ſpangled Skies,
Where never ſhall be Night,
Nor need of Sun or Moon:
The Grave alſo ſhall keep
My Duſt in quiet Sleep,
Till the Coming of my Lord:
That Fleſh ſhall ſhine with God,
That now is but a Clod;
And muſt lie as a thing abhorr'd.
Death.
8.
Thy merry Daies are gone;
Thou ſhalt no longer ſtay:
Thy Life ſhall end in pain:
Thy Time and work is done,
And all thy Sport and Play;
And never ſhall come again.
Here take thy leave of Health,
And of thy Goods and Wealth;
And of every pleaſant Friend:
Bid farewel to them all,
For here thy Corps ſhall fall;
And the World to thee ſhall end.
Believer.
9.
Boaſt not, O conquered Foe:
For thou could'ſt have no ſtrength,
But what comes from my ſin:
My Lord will overthrow
Thy Power at the length;
And will thy Priſoners win:
Thou could'ſt not keep my head,
When he lay in thy Bed;
But he roſe, and now doth Reign:
He'l take away thy ſting,
And endleſs Life will bring,
And with him ſhall I remain.
10.
How oft have I undreſt me,
And laid my Garments by,
And dyed till the next day?
I do but go to reſt me,
And ſhall riſe ſpeedily;
My Lord will not delay.
When thou haſt broke this ſhell,
My Soul with Chriſt ſhall dwell,
And with Saints and Angels bright.
This World is but the Womb,
From which my Soul muſt come,
Into the Eternal Light.
11.
And what though Death be painful?
The pain is quickly paſt;
My Soul ſhall ſoon be freed:
My Lord ſhall make it gainful:
The gain ſhall ever laſt;
And Joy ſhall Grief ſucceed.
And though the Place ſeem ſtrange,
And Nature fear a change;
Yet I with Chriſt ſhall be.
And when with him I dwell,
I know I ſhall be well,
And his glorious Light ſhall ſee.
12.
Thou ſhalt but kill my ſin,
And crown my painful Race,
And end my Grief and Fear:
Thou ſhalt but let me in
To ſee the bleſſed face
Of my Redeemer dear.
And is it any loſs
To follow with my Croſs,
Till I attain the Crown?
It's he that truly dyes,
That Mercy doth deſpiſe,
And at laſt God will diſown.
13.
I knew that from my Birth
I was a mortal man:
My frailty, is confeſt.
I knew my Fleſh was Earth;
My Life was but a ſpan.
And here is not my Reſt.
If thou canſt ſay no more,
All this I knew before,
And yet thy threats defie.
Have I long ſought in pain,
And would I not obtain,
Joyful Eternity?
14.
O feeble thing!
How canſt thou conquer Chriſt,
And make his Promiſe void?
Firſt overcome my King,
And his Command reſiſt,
By whom thou art employ'd:
Firſt win the World above,
And conquer endleſs Love;
And then I'le be thy ſlave:
Kill an immortal Soul,
And we will all condole,
And fear a darkſome grave.
15.
It's Chriſt that doth thee ſend,
To bring about his end;
And him thou muſt obey.
He is my deareſt Friend,
And doth no harm intend,
In calling me away.
And why ſhould he fear ill,
Whom Love it ſelf doth kill?
And numbreth with the Bleſt?
Why ſhould not Death fulfil,
His good All-ruling WILL,
My SPRING, my GUIDE, my REST.
Hoc migraturus ſcripſi ſub imagine Carmen.
FArewel vain World: As thou haſt been to me
Duſt and a ſhadow, ſuch I leave to thee.
The unſeen Life and Subſtance I commit
To him that's Subſtance, Life, Light, Love to it.
Some Leaves and Fruit are dropt for ſoil & ſeed;
Heaven's Heirs to generate; to heal and feed:
Them alſo thou wilt flatter and moleſt,
But ſhalt not keep from Everlaſting Reſt.
Vel,
Munde doloſe vale: mihi vera paleſtra fuiſti:
Perficitur Curſus; certa corona manet.
Vita fugax ceſſat: Praeſtant aeterna caducis:
Mens ſuperos viſit: Pulvere pulvis erit.
Excipe Chriſte tuum: Tibi vixi: Errata remitte;
Spe tibi commiſſum perfice Chriſte tuum.
Tu mortis mors es: Vitae tu vita perennis.
Gloria noſtra Tua eſt Gloria, Lumen, Amor.
Non loca, non coetus, non hinc ſperata videntur.
Optimus, Omnividens, Maximus illa videt.
THE Engliſh Verſes written on a fair Marble over the Grave where my Wife and her Mother are buried, in the upper end of Chriſt's-Church Chancel (broken and loſt by the fall of the Church when burnt) were theſe.
Thus must thy Fleſh to ſilent Duſt deſcend.
Thy mirth and worldly pleaſure thus will end:
Then happy holy Souls: but woe to thoſe,
Who Heav'n forgot, and earthly pleaſures choſe.
Hear now this Preaching Grave: without delay,
Believe, Repent, and work while it is day.
FINIS.
End of the text · Richard Baxter, Poetical Fragments (1681)