Mary Magdalenes Love to Christ, Poem 1 – Poem 2
VponUpon the happy (though early) Death of his deare Sister Ms Elizabeth Thomason Dying of a Feavor.
Too hasty Sisters whith s…a… had begun
To spi… this finer Ch…ad…: but straight they've done.
Too find indeed twas …aw…, & prov'd thereby
Too wea…e for to support Mo…tality.
Alas! alas! thus does the purest Breath
Soonest evaporate and yeild to Death.
Thus is the purest fflame of Virgin Life
Sra… in, when out: and to the Endlesse Griefe
Of breathing ffriend…, leaves neither flash non sparke
To light them from the miseries of the Darke.
Thus to my S…cif…, thy …ou… Soule thou'… you
ffrom vsus, from Sin, from all that thou hast done,
To those blest Mansions whence thy speedier Hope
Long sint… arriv'd, and set the Doore wide op…,
ffor thy refined Clay: thy Soule made hast
And went up long before, to see and …ast
The endlesse Joyc…, co…i…h 'tis our greatest Blisse
Whilest he…, …o wish and long for. O! 't was this
Bright, Glorious Heaven fores… that made
Thee post so fast from he…e, where nought but shade,
And blas…ess… …xcife, and Sins doe …loud our dayes
And ma…e it Night. How art thou crownd wth. Raye…
ffrom that blest Sun, whole rising first did shew
Wee …ould se… light, we, who doe dwell below:
And wandering in this Vayle of Misery
Wal… sadly weeping, for o… Sinnes, and thee.
O had my Teares some soc… enough to quench
Thy raging flame, whi…h boldly dare …ish
On p…est life had my Sig…he but come
So timely to prevent thy early Doome!
By blowing out that ffire whish boldly prey'd
On thy sweet Body now in O…shes say'd.
Vaine Wishes! why should …esi… to bee
S…ic… of …y …ue ffeli…tie?
Why should …lo… thy passage to the S…ies
And to thy God? Thou died'st his Sa…rifi…;
A sweet … Offering, whi…h thy sweetest King
In a with C…se… sweetest Soule does bring
My to his Throne, to that great …i…ty,
Who dain'd (before thou liv…'st) to dye for thee.
Did then to liv… for … lives who was dead.
Blest Soule thy King thy Savio…r, and thy Head.
G: Thomason. B Frat:
An Epitaph on the Same.
Courteous Reader, why so sad
To see my Body thus low layd?
Alas! my Soule is long since flowne
To Paradise its blessed Home
Where it doth rest, secur'd from sin,
And Misery which thou dwell'st in.
Hast! hast! & dye that thou may'st be
Free both from Sin, and Miserie.
G: T: