The practice of piety directing a Christian how to walk, that he may please…

Then she directs her Speech unto her Hands: O Hands, who have been so often approved for Manhood, in peace and war, and wherewith I have so often defended my self, and offended my Foes; never had I more need than now. Death looks me grim in the face, and kills me: Hellish Fiends wait about my Bed to devour me: help now, or I perish for ever Alas▪ the Hands are so weak, and do so tremble, that they cannot reach to the Mouth a Spoonful of supping to relieve languishing Nature.

The wretched Soul seeing her self thus desolate and altogether destitute of friends, help, and comfort, and knowing that within an Hour she must be in everlasting pains, retires her self to the Heart (which of all Members is primum vivens, and ultimum ⟨p. 51⟩moriens) from whence she makes this doleful lamentation with her self.

O miserable Caitiff that I am!¹ How do the sorrows of Death compass me! How do the floods of Belial make me afraid! Now have indeed the snares both of the first and second death overtaken me at once.² O how suddenly hath Death stolen upon me with insensible degrees! like the Sun which the Eye perceives not to move, though it be most swift of motion. How doth Death wreak on me his spite without pity! The God of mercy hath utterly forsaken me; and the Devil, who knows no mercy, waits for to take me. How often have I been warned of this doleful Day by the faithful Preachers of God's Word, and I made but a Jest thereat? What profit have I now of all my Pride, fine House, and brave Apparel? What's become of the sweet Relish of all my delicious Fare? all the worldly Goods which I so carefully gathered, would I now give for a good Conscience, which I so carelessly neglected! and what Joy remains now of all my former fleshly Pleasures, wherein I placed my chief delight? those foolish Pleasures were but deceitful Dreams, and now they are past, like vanishing shadows; but to think of those Eternal Pains, which I must endure for those short Pleasures, pains me as Hell before I enter into Hell. Yet justly I confess, as I have deserved, I am served, that being made after God's Image, a reasonable Soul, able to judge of mine own Estate