A Lesson For All Estates Poem by Humfrey Gifford

Hast thou desire thy golden dayes to spend,
In blisfull state exempt from all annoyes?
So liue, as if death now thy life should end,
Still treade the pathes that leade to perfect ioy.
Bee slow to sinne, but speedie to aske grace,
How are they blest that thus runne out their race?


Ech night, ere sleepe shut vp thy drowsie eyes,
Thinke thou how much in day thou hast transgrest:
And pardon craue of God in any wise,
To doe that's good, and to forsake the rest.
Sinne thus shake of, the fiend for enuie weepes,
Sound are our ioyes, most quiet are our sleepes.


Haue not thy head so cloyd with worldly cares,
As to neglect that thou shouldst chiefly minde:
But beare an eye to Sathans wily snares:
Who to beguile, a thousand shiftes will finde,
Uaine are the ioyes that wretched world allowes,
Who trust them most, doe trust but rotten bowes.


Shunne filthy vice, persist in doing well,
For doing well doth godly life procure:
And godly life makes vs with Christ to dwell,
In endlesse blisse that euer shall endure,
Wee pray thee Lord, our follyes to redresse,
That wee thus doe, thus liue, this blisse possesse.