First think, my soul, if I have foes
That take a pleasure in my care,
And to procure those outward woes
Have thus enwrapt me unaware;
Thou shouldst by much more careful be,
Since greater foes lay wait for thee.

By my late hopes that now are crossed,
Consider those that firmer be,
And make the freedom I have lost,
A means that may remember thee.
Had Christ not thy Redeemer been,
What horrid state hadst thou been in!

Or when through me then seest a man
Condemned unto a mortal death,
How sad he looks, how pale, how wan,
Drawing, with fear, his panting breath
Think if in that such grief thou see,
How sad will " Go ye cursed " be!

These iron chains, these bolts of steel,
Which often poor offenders grind;
The wants and cares which they do feel
May bring some greater things to mind.
For by their grief thou shalt do well
To think upon the pains of Hell.

Again, when he that feared to die
(Past hope) doth see his pardon brought,
Read but the joy that's in his eye,
And then convey it to thy thought;
Then think between thy heart and thee,
How glad will " Come ye blessed " be!