Tell him here's worse then a confused matter- Oppressed minds abruptest tales do tell. Now post with double speed, mark what I say; LONGING FOR HEAVEN As weary pilgrim now at rest his dangers past and travailes done; 35 40 1678. 5 The burning sun no more shall heat, Nor stormy raines on him shall beat; The bryars and thornes no more shall scratch, nor stumps nor rocks cause him to fall; All cares and feares he bids farwell, and meanes in safity now to dwell: A pilgrim I on earth perplext, with sinns, with cares and sorrows vext, By age and paines brought to decay, and my Clay house mouldring away, Oh how I long to be at rest and soare on high among the blest! Mine eyes no more shall ever weep, nor grinding paines my body fraile, |