The little birds which sing so sweet,
Are like the angels' voice,
Which renders God His praises meet,
And teach[1] us to rejoice:
And as they more esteem that mirth,
Than dread the night's annoy,
So much we deem our days on earth
But hell to heavenly joy.
Unto which joys for to attain,
God grant us all His grace,
And send us, after worldly pain,
In heaven to have a place,
When we may still enjoy that light,
Which never shall decay:
Lord, for thy mercy lend us might,
To see that joyful day.
[1] 'Teach:' for teacheth.
GOOD-NIGHT.
When thou hast spent the ling'ring day
In pleasure and delight,
Or after toil and weary way,
Dost seek to rest at night;
Unto thy pains or pleasures past,
Add this one labour yet,
Ere sleep close up thine eyes too fast,
Do not thy God forget,
But search within thy secret thoughts,
What deeds did thee befall,
And if thou find amiss in aught,
To God for mercy call.
Yea, though thou findest nought amiss
Which thou canst call to mind,
Yet evermore remember this,
There is the more behind:
And think how well soe'er it be
That thou hast spent the day,
It came of God, and not of thee,
So to direct thy way.
Thus if thou try thy daily deeds,
And pleasure in this pain,
Thy life shall cleanse thy corn from weeds,
And thine shall be the gain:
But if thy sinful, sluggish eye,
Will venture for to wink,
Before thy wading will may try
How far thy soul may sink,
Beware and wake,[1] for else thy bed,
Which soft and smooth is made,
May heap more harm upon thy head
Than blows of en'my's blade.
Thus if this pain procure thine ease,
In bed as thou dost lie,
Perhaps it shall not God displease,
To sing thus soberly:
'I see that sleep is lent me here,
To ease my weary bones,
As death at last shall eke appear,
To ease my grievous groans.
'My daily sports, my paunch full fed,
Have caused my drowsy eye,
As careless life, in quiet led,
Might cause my soul to die:
The stretching arms, the yawning breath,
Which I to bedward use,
Are patterns of the pangs of death,
When life will me refuse;