Ultima, = the last things in reference to the first and middle things

The hour is come, and the dawning of that dreadful day appeareth; now he begins to wish that he had some space, some piece of time to repent him; and if he might obtain it, O what would he do! or what would he not do? Relieve the weak, visit the sick feed the hungry, lodge the stronger, clothe the naked, give half his goods to the poor, and if he had done any wrong restore it him again seven-fold; but alas! all is too late, the candle that but follows him cannot light him to heaven; a sudden death denies his suit, and the increasing of his sickness will give him no leisure to fulfil those duties: what cold sweats are those that seize upon him? his senses fail, his speech falters, his eyes sink, his breast swells, his feet die, his heart faints such are the outward pangs: what then are the inward griefs? if the body thus suffers, what cares and conflicts endures the soul? had he the riches of Croesus, the Empires of Alexander, the robes of Solomon, the fare of that rich man who lived deliciously every day, what could they do in the extremity of these pangs. O rich man, thou couldst tell us of pulling down barns, and building greater; but now imagine the vast cope of heaven thy Barn, (and that were large enough) and all the riches of the world thy grain (and that were crop enough) yet all these cannot buy a minute of ease, now that death will have thy body hell thy soul. O dark dungeon of imprisoned men! whose help wilt thou crave? whose aid wilt ⟨p. 85⟩thou ask? what release canst thou expect from such a prison? the disease is past cure, the sickness wants remedy: alas! what may recover now the heart strings break asunder? thy date expires, thy last breath goes, and now is thy Soul and Body required of thee.

The hour is come, and the dawning of that dreadfull day appeareth; now he begins to wish that he had some space, some piece of time to repent him; and if he might obtain it, O what would he do! or what would he not do? Releive the weak, visit the sick feed the hungry, lodge the stronger, cloath the naked, give half his goods to the poor, and if he had done any wrong restore it him again seven-fold; but alas! all is too late, the candle that but follows him cannot light him to heaven; a sudden death denies his suit, and the increasing of his sickness will give him no leasure to fulfill those duties: what cold sweats are those that seiz upon him? his senses fail, his speech falters, his eyes sink, his breast swels, his feet die, his heart faints such are the outward pangs: what then are the inward griefs? if the body thus suffers, what cares and conflicts endures the soul? had he the riches of Croesus, the Empires of Alexander, the robes of Solomon, the fare of that rich man who lived deliciously every day, what could they do in the extremity of these pangs. O rich man, thou couldst tell us of pulling down barns, and building greater; but now imagine the vast cope of heaven thy Barn, (and that were large enough) and all the riches of the world thy grain (and that were crop enough) yet all these cannot buy a minute of ease, now that death will have thy body hell thy soul. O dark dungeon of imprisoned men! whose help wilt thou crave? whose aid wilt