PART I.

Hail; thou state of widowhood, State of those that mourn to God; Who, from earthly comforts torn, Only live to pray and mourn.

Meanest of the number, I For my dear companion sigh; Patiently my loss deplore, Mourn for one that mourns no more.

Me my consort hath outrun, Out of sight he quite has gone; He his course has finished here, First come to the sepulchre.

Following on with earnest haste, Till my mourning days are past, I my partner's steps pursue, I shall soon be happy too;

Find the ease for which I pant, Gain the only good I want; Quietly lay down my head, Sink into my earthy bed.

There my flesh shall rest in hope, Till the quickened dust mount up, When to glorious life I'll rise, To meet my husband in the skies.