Oh my blacke Soule! now thou art summoned
By sicknesse, deaths herald, and champion;
Thou art like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done
Treason, and durst not turne to whence hee is fled,
Or like a thiefe, which till deaths doome be read, 5
Wisheth himselfe delivered from prison;
But damn'd and hal'd to execution,
Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned.
Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lacke;
But who shall give thee that grace to beginne? 10
Oh make thy selfe with holy mourning blacke,
And red with blushing, as thou art with sinne;
Or wash thee in Christs blood, which hath this might
That being red, it dyes red soules to white.
[IV. _1635-69:_ II. _1633_, _A18_, _D_, _&c.:_ V. _B_, _O'F_,
_S96_, _W_]
[1 Soule! _1633:_ Soule _1635-69_]
[8 imprisoned. _W:_ imprisoned; _1633-69_]