.NDU.MjI1NzE

Docter Latworth upon his deathbed

My God I speake it from a full assuraunce faith shall avowe Clyme by appropriation My God that holds my spirrit debter in duraunce fettered with sinne, and shackeled wth temptation Deere for thy mercye soone enlarge mee Nor sinne, nor Hell, nor ought besyde shall charg. mee

My sowle maye now begonne unto her maker Maker of her, but not of her Infection. for that's her owne when Gods love doth forsake her finall forsakinge is not in election [Imge?] for whereby grace, God once shall make his [dnel?] There maye bee smityng but ther is noe fellinge

Eearth what art thou? A Poynt, A sencelesse Centure freinds what are you? An ages trusted tryall Life what art thou? A dailye doubtfull venture Death what art yu? A better lifes repiall flesh wt art yu? A loose untempered morter Sicknes what art thou! heavens churlish Porte

Sweet Jesu bidd thy Porter then admitte mee I hold this life, and lives delight in lothinge If ought be one my backe that doth not fill mee Stripp mee of all & give mee bridall, Clothinge Soe shall I bee received by mee Liueris And Prisoner Sowle shall Joye at Jaile-[deliuly?] Doct: Latworth in Hiberma interfectus FINIS