SInce God hath fyxt our dayes and yeares, to live and eke to dye,
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And takes his choice of us his sheepe, what wight shal him deny?
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But that he may without reiagge his creatures take and save,
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Yea heave them up, yea throw them down, from life unto the grave:
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Rejoice we then among the route, which doth this thing confesse,
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And pray that God may have his will, he teacheth us no lesse.
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And thanke him to, for all his giftes, and seeme not for to mourne,
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For that which he hath in himselfe, set downe ere we were borne.
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All tymes with him is not one houre, to age no subject is:
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All shall decay, yea heaven and earth, such power and glory is his,
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Borne all to dye, and dye we must, all flesh shall yeelde to death,
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The promisse made welcome the tyme, with fayth let go this breath.
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As now of late a worthy man, by God from hence is calde,
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Who doth not dye, but lyve for aye, and in the heavens is stalde:
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Whose lyfe on earth so well was knowne, to those of thankfull mynde,
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That which he did that justice had, that few lyke him I fynde.
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A subject true, in Councell grave, in sentence briefe and sure,
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A mynde bedect with equity, whose fame shall aye indure.
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To ritch and poore indifferent, respecting justice cause,
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To mitigate extremities, he sought and had the lawes:
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The patron of perswasions and enemy to all vice,
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He feared God, he lovd his prince, which shewde him very wise:
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No patch of popish mynde in him was ever found,
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But favoured those and helpt them to, which did the trueth expound.
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Lo this I thinke of duty right, of him thus to reporte,
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To give that thankes which I do owe, to all such worthy sorte:
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I not deny but greater Clarkes, may pen and paynte his prayse,
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With lofty verse heroicall, as was in Ovids dayes.
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But tell the troth, and flatter not, but speake as hart doth thinke
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A rarer man not in our dayes, nor lesse at wrong would winke:
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Then would this worthy Bacon Knight, and Lord by Princes will,
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Whose bodyes dead, whose soule doth lyve, and fame continewes still:
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And shall at last ryse up againe, in shape and perfect blisse,
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To take rewarde with the elect, which God doth count as his.
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Unto which hap God bring us all, when hence that we shall wend,
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For Gods good feare, and honest lyfe, doth bring a joyfull end.
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