THE Vanity of Vain Glory.
With good Advice to those who chuse
Immediate pleasures here,
That they no longer can refuse,
The thing which cost so dear.
Tune, The Gloryes of our birth and State.
THe gloryes of our birth and state,
are shaddows notsubstantial things
There is no armour against our fate
death layes his Icy hands on kings▪
Scepter and Crown must tumble down
and in the dust be equall laid,
With a poor crooked sigh and spade.
Some men with swords do reap the field
and plant fresh Lawrels where they kill,
But their strong nerues at length must yield
they tame but one another still,
Early or late all bend to fate
& must yield up their murmouring breath
[...]hilst the pale Captive bleeds to death.
The garland withers on your brow
then boast no more your mighty déeds
For on deaths purple Alter now
see how the victor victored bléeds,
All heads must come to the cold tomb
only the Actions of the just
Smells sweet and blossoms in the dust.
All things in this poor life are vain
then for a change let us prepare,
We must swim through a sea of pain
before we reach that Heaven, where
There's joyes in store for evermore,
and we shall be for ever blest,
From toile and labour then to rest.
THen never cease to run that race
which leads to everlasting bliss,
Amongst the saints to take a place
oh! what encouragement is this,
Who would refuse that way to choose
which leads to blest eternity,
From pains and sorrows to be free.
While in this life to some so sweet
all kind of wickedness abound,
And with such crosses we do meet
as all our comforts do confound,
There you shall be from passion free
and hear no mournings nor complaints
But praises sing amongst the saints.
Infinite joys shall them attend
who at that Haven do arrive,
Where God himself shall be their friend
and nothing ever shall deprive
Them of that bliss, which they must miss
who will not leave their vanity,
But glory in debauchery
That path which to destruction leads
and loads the soul with heaps of sin,
To many men more pleasure breeds,
and they are more delighted in,
Then that which brings all blessed things
eternal joy and endless peace,
Where bliss abounds and pains do cease.
But mortal men are always prone
their present pleasures for to chuse,
Eternal joyes they let alone
and thus by sin they'r soul abuse
What pitty 'tis that men should miss
that happiness which cost so dear,
For momentary pleasures here.
Learn to be wise fond man in time
while 'tis to day, your sins repent
You may be cut off in your prime
and then too late you may lament,
In time return for fear you burn
and in the lake of torments fry
Whose flames will burn perpetually.
Printed for F. Cole. T. Vere. J. Wright. J. Clark W. Thackery. and T. Passenger.