Thou’st barred me from heaven’s path, as highwaymen who kill.
My blood thou’st sucked these seventy years, thou thing of shame!
Through thee I’m rendered vile in eyes of men of fame.
O Lord, Most Merciful! Thou giver of all good!
My past life pardon, squandered ill, in heedless mood!”295
Man’s life’s a gift of God. Alas! How few will think!
The value of each moment’s great, so near death’s brink.
I’ve spent my life, not thinking how the moments fly.
I’ve sung and harped as though a man should never die.
Alas! that I in singing songs of mirth and glee,