God made thee of choice his own, and of his own

To serve him, thy reward was of his grace,

Thy punishment then justly is at his Will.

Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair,

That dust I am, and shall to dust returne: [ 770 ]

O welcom hour whenever! why delayes

His hand to execute what his Decree

Fixd on this day? why do I overlive,

Why am I mockt with death, and lengthnd out

To deathless pain? how gladly would I meet [ 775 ]

Mortalitie my sentence, and be Earth

Insensible, how glad would lay me down

As in my Mothers lap! There I should rest

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