(seq. 37)

31

When shall I stretch my limbs & bow my head,

And to the King of terrord all a victim ly,

aexcept my soul, that cannot dleep or die ~

I once could boast of blooming health,

And in prosperity could sport in wealth,

Or wanton in the plaudit of a friend,

Whose gay applause would sooth my fretted mind,

And almost make me tamper with my soul,

Forgetful that this body e'er could fall,

To ghastly death a fulsome sacrifice,

Or give the conq'rer such a mortal prize ~

And must I close my eyes on things below

And quit my earthly hopes & pleasures too;

Renounce this world & fly in rapid haste,

A world that shines so miserably defac'd,

To world unknown a stranger to my fate,

And at the bar of God attending wait,

The sentence of my Judge for crimes I've done