258. To Death
Thou bidst me come away,And I’ll no longer stay,Than for to shed some tearsFor faults of former years;And to repent some crimesDone in the present times;And next, to take a bitOf bread, and wine with it;To don my robes of love,Fit for the place above;To gird my loins aboutWith charity throughout;And so to travel henceWith feet of innocence;These done, I’ll only cry,‘God, mercy!’ and so die.