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his meditation upon death - robert herrick - richard mitchley lyrics

be those few hours, which i have yet to spend
blest with the meditation of my end;
though they be few in number, i’m content;
if otherwise, i stand indifferent
nor makes it matter, nestor’s years to tell
if man lives long, and if he live not well
a multitude of days still heaped on
seldom brings order, but confusion
might i make choice, long life should be with*stood;
nor would i care how short it were, if good;
which to effect, let ev’ry passing bell
possess my thoughts, next comes my doleful knell;
and when the night persuades me to my bed
i’ll think i’m going to be buried;
so shall the blankets which come over me
present those turfs, which once must cover me;
and with as firm behaviour i will meet
the sheet i sleep in, as my winding*sheet
when sleep shall bathe his body in mine eyes
i will believe, that then my body dies;
and if i chance to wake, and rise thereon
i’ll have in mind my resurrection
which must produce me to that gen’ral doom
to which the peasant, so the prince must come
to hear the judge give sentence on the throne
without the least hope of affection
tears, at that day, shall make but weak defense
when h*ll and horror fright the conscience
let me, though late, yet at the last, begin
to shun the least temptation to a sin;
though to be tempted be no sin, until
man to th’alluring object gives his will
such let my life assure me, when my breath
goes thieving from me, i am safe in death;
which is the height of comfort, when i fall
i rise triumphant in my funeral

- richard mitchley lyrics

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