Comforts In Contentions.

Be not dismayed though crosses cast thee down;
Thy fall is but the rising to a crown.

To conquered men, some comfort 'tis to fall
By the hand of him who is the general.

'Tis no discomfort in the world to fall,
When the great crack not crushes one, but all.

For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.

I fear no earthly powers,
But care for crowns of flowers;
And love to have my beard
With wine and oil besmear'd.
This day I'll drown all sorrow:
Who knows to live to-morrow?

In the hope of ease to come,
Let's endure one martyrdom.