







 
   
     
       
         Thomas Law bell-man. His Christmass greeting to his masters of St. Giles Cripplegate, within the Freedom, presenteth his love and humble endeavours, as followeth.
         Law, Thomas, bellman.
      
       
         
           1666
        
      
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         99884976
         ocm99884976
         182779
         
           
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             Thomas Law bell-man. His Christmass greeting to his masters of St. Giles Cripplegate, within the Freedom, presenteth his love and humble endeavours, as followeth.
             Law, Thomas, bellman.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             [s.n.],
             London, :
             Printed in the year, 1666.
          
           
             Verse: "NN other Psalme this Morne I intend to sing ..."
             Cf. Wing L631 which has 'Christmas' in the title.
             Reproduction of original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Christmas -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           THOMAS
           LAW
           BELL-MAN
           .
        
         
           His
           Christmass
           Greeting
           to
           his
           Masters
           of
           St.
           Giles
           Cripplegate
           ,
           within
           the
           Freedom
           ,
           presenteth
           his
           Love
           and
           humble
           Endeavours
           ,
           as
           followeth
           .
        
         
           
             I.
             
          
           
             
               For
               the
            
             King
             and
             Queen
             .
          
           
             NN
             other
             Psalme
             this
             Morne
             I
             intend
             to
             sing
             ,
          
           
             But
             Lord
             thy
             prayers
             for
             our
             Sacred
             King
             ,
          
           
             And
             Sacred
             Consort
             ,
             his
             deserving
             Queen
             ,
          
           
             In
             which
             blest
             Union
             Lord
             ,
             as
             thou
             wert
             seen
             ,
          
           
             From
             whose
             consent
             in
             mercy
             it
             did
             proceed
             ,
          
           
             So
             let
             be
             seen
             thy
             mercy
             in
             their
             Seed
             ,
          
           
             That
             from
             the
             most
             deserving
             Loines
             of
             theirs
             ,
          
           
             The
             Kingdome
             may
             obtaine
             deserving
             Heires
             .
          
        
         
           
             II.
             
          
           
             Our
             Royal
             Navy
             Lord
             Protect
             and
             bless
             ,
          
           
             and
             Crown
             their
             just
             endeavours
             w●th
             success
             .
          
           
             To
             vindicate
             our
             Cause
             that
             justly
             goes
          
           
             Against
             our
             unjust
             and
             incroaching
             Foes
             :
          
           
             Whose
             thundering
             Cannons
             from
             the
             Goodings-Sands
             ,
          
           
             Rings
             peals
             of
             terror
             to
             their
             Neighbouring
             Lands
             ,
          
           
             Who
             if
             they
             might
             ,
             would
             use
             him
             as
             they
             please
             ,
          
           
             Whom
             the
             Lord
             hath
             deputed
             o're
             the
             narrow
             Seas
             .
          
        
         
           
             III.
             
          
           
             All
             you
             that
             on
             your
             bedds
             in
             safety
             lie
             ,
          
           
             Call
             to
             your
             mind
             that
             all
             th●ngs
             borne
             must
             dye
             :
          
           
             And
             not
             the
             healthy'st
             of
             you
             all
             can
             say
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             shall
             live
             a
             year
             ,
             a
             moneth
             ,
             a
             day
             :
          
           
             And
             who
             knows
             but
             his
             glass
             so
             near
             is
             run
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             may
             dye
             before
             this
             morning
             Sun.
             
          
        
         
           
             IV.
             
          
           
             Fly
             man
             the
             vanity
             of
             being
             proud
             ,
          
           
             And
             think
             how
             near
             thou
             may'st
             be
             to
             thy
             shrowd
             :
          
           
             Consider
             the
             condition
             of
             us
             right
             ,
          
           
             And
             frailty
             of
             our
             state
             by
             day
             and
             night
             :
          
           
             Sleeping
             ,
             we
             death
             resemble
             ,
             and
             by
             day
          
           
             We
             are
             at
             best
             but
             walking
             lumps
             of
             clay
             .
          
        
         
           
             V.
             
          
           
             The
             House-keeper
             would
             watch
             ,
             if
             he
             but
             knew
             ,
          
           
             What
             houre
             of
             the
             night
             the
             Thiefe
             would
             venter
             :
          
           
             And
             doubtless
             so
             would
             ever
             one
             of
             you
             ,
          
           
             knew
             you
             the
             certaine
             hour
             when
             death
             would
             enter
             :
          
           
             Strengthen
             our
             Souls
             Lord
             ,
             by
             thy
             gratious
             power
             ,
          
           
             That
             we
             may
             still
             keep
             watchful
             for
             that
             hour
             .
          
        
         
           
             VI.
             
          
           
             All
             you
             that
             on
             your
             feeble
             Beds
             do
             lye
             ,
          
           
             Lift
             up
             your
             hearts
             and
             hands
             to
             God
             on
             high
             ;
          
           
             And
             so
             reflect
             upon
             the
             day
             of
             Doome
             ,
          
           
             What
             time
             our
             Saviour
             through
             the
             Clowds
             will
             come
          
           
             With
             Troops
             of
             Angels
             ,
             and
             with
             Trumpets
             call
          
           
             To
             give
             us
             summons
             ,
             and
             to
             judge
             us
             all
             .
          
        
         
           
             VII
             .
          
           
             After
             your
             sweet
             repose
             of
             nightly
             rest
             ,
          
           
             Collect
             ,
             and
             think
             on
             God
             who
             hath
             you
             blest
             :
          
           
             And
             ere
             you
             do
             prepare
             your selves
             to
             rise
             ,
          
           
             Offer
             to
             him
             your
             Morning
             Sacrifice
          
           
             Of
             faithful
             Prayers
             ,
             that
             God
             may
             still
             persever
          
           
             His
             mercys
             towards
             you
             ,
             and
             forsake
             you
             never
             .
          
        
         
           
             VIII
             .
          
           
             VVhat
             a
             good
             Conscience
             still
             would
             man
             retaine
             ,
          
           
             Could
             he
             avoid
             all
             pleasures
             that
             are
             vaine
             .
          
           
             If
             he
             could
             cast
             away
             all
             worldly
             care
             ,
          
           
             And
             only
             think
             on
             things
             that
             Heav'nly
             are
             :
          
           
             And
             wholly
             trust
             in
             God
             ?
             what
             joy
             of
             mind
          
           
             ●…ould
             he
             possess
             ?
             what
             comfort
             would
             he
             find
             ?
          
        
         
           
             IX
             .
          
           
             COnsider
             man
             with
             dilligence
             and
             care
             ,
          
           
             VVhat
             harmes
             thou
             may'st
             avoyd
             if
             thou
             beware
             :
          
           
             VVhat
             comforts
             at
             Deaths
             pinch
             may
             thee
             befriend
             ,
          
           
             If
             alwayes
             thou
             be
             thinking
             on
             thy
             end
             :
          
           
             And
             ever
             so
             endeavouring
             to
             live
             here
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             may'st
             at
             Death
             ,
             rather
             rejoyce
             then
             fear
             .
          
        
         
           
             X.
             
          
           
             Death
             (
             Masters
             )
             doth
             not
             use
             to
             knock
             nor
             call
             ,
          
           
             But
             like
             a
             Thiefe
             ,
             he
             st●aleth
             ●n
             us
             all
             :
          
           
             And
             merciless
             (
             as
             h●
             is
             )
             he
             puts
             us
             ●ill
          
           
             In
             hope
             of
             living
             ,
             when
             he
             means
             to
             kill
             :
          
           
             Unhappy
             is
             that
             man
             that
             doth
             depend
          
           
             On
             Deaths
             Reprevement
             ,
             and
             n●glects
             his
             End.
             
          
        
         
           
             XI
             .
          
           
             Squalled
             ,
             and
             Meagre
             is
             the
             face
             of
             Death
             ,
          
           
             And
             known
             by
             the
             shortness
             of
             h●s
             breath
             :
          
           
             He
             speaks
             to
             〈…〉
             word
             ,
             but
             kill
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             has
             this
             Death
             〈◊〉
             power
             one
             Soul
             to
             spill
             .
          
           
             Grace
             makes
             the
             〈…〉
             ,
             Joyes
             aspire
             ,
          
           
             Or
             〈◊〉
             comm●…
             it
             to
             e●…●…al
             ●…re
             .
          
        
         
           
             XII
             .
          
           
             Doubtful
             and
             swift
             is
             〈◊〉
             in
             her
             course
             ,
          
           
             And
             Death
             takes
             all
             ,
             for
             better
             and
             for
             worse
             :
          
           
             The
             rich
             and
             poor
             (
             to
             him
             )
             a●e
             all
             alike
             ,
          
           
             The
             weak
             and
             strong
             ,
             the
             healthy
             and
             the
             sick
             :
          
           
             For
             the
             great
             Bridegroome
             then
             prepare
             thy
             heart
             ,
          
           
             And
             ha●g
             with
             mourning
             thy
             aspiring
             part
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Soul
             ;
             which
             through
             a
             true
             repentance
             may
          
           
             Prevent
             some
             blushes
             on
             that
             Marriage
             day
             .
          
        
         
           
             XIII
             .
          
           
             VVe
             have
             no
             cause
             to
             wonder
             (
             gentle
             friends
             )
          
           
             Neither
             at
             timely
             ,
             nor
             untimely
             ends
             :
          
           
             Death's
             common
             unto
             all
             both
             you
             and
             I
             ,
          
           
             And
             every
             living
             earthly
             thing
             must
             dye
             :
          
           
             Swift
             time
             doth
             carry
             all
             things
             to
             destruction
             ,
          
           
             All
             natures
             frame
             is
             guilty
             of
             Corruption
             :
          
           
             God
             grant
             we
             endeavour
             here
             ,
             whil'st
             we
             have
             breath
             ,
          
           
             Not
             to
             be
             guilty
             of
             the
             second
             death
             .
          
        
         
           
             XIV
             .
          
           
             This
             world
             's
             a
             VVilderness
             ,
             all
             set
             with
             snares
             ,
          
           
             A
             Laberinth
             full
             of
             confuse●
             cares
             :
          
           
             A
             Sea
             fill'd
             up
             with
             hos
             incensing
             Lusts
             ,
          
           
             Subject
             to
             all
             temptations
             ,
             hellish
             gusts
             :
          
           
             Still
             raising
             billowes
             in
             our
             flesh
             and
             blood
             ,
          
           
             More
             dangerous
             and
             threatning
             then
             the
             Flood
             :
          
           
             This
             gulfe
             hath
             founder'd
             many
             a
             barke
             of
             clay
             ,
          
           
             And
             many
             an
             Owner
             of
             them
             cast
             away
             .
          
        
         
           
             XV.
             
          
           
             Note
             that
             the
             gentle
             Crafts-man
             makes
             his
             end
             ,
          
           
             He
             doth
             his
             threads
             to
             several
             lengths
             extend
             :
          
           
             So
             are
             we
             drawn
             from
             the
             Clue
             of
             life
             ,
          
           
             To
             the
             Fates
             heedless
             and
             uneven
             knife
             :
          
           
             Let
             us
             be
             careful
             then
             ,
             that
             we
             do
             spin
          
           
             Our
             threads
             of
             life
             ,
             without
             the
             knots
             of
             sin
             :
          
           
             And
             God
             will
             sure
             in
             Deaths
             uncertaine
             doles
             ,
          
           
             Grant
             us
             good
             ends
             ,
             to
             benefit
             our
             Soules
             .
          
        
         
           
             XVI
             .
          
           
             Remember
             man
             the
             weakness
             of
             thy
             frame
             ,
          
           
             And
             humble
             thee
             to
             God
             who
             knows
             the
             same
             :
          
           
             And
             unto
             him
             for
             grace
             and
             mercy
             call
             ,
          
           
             That
             thou
             may'st
             hope
             to
             rise
             ,
             but
             fear
             to
             fall
             .
          
        
         
           
             XVII
             .
          
           
             MAns
             life
             is
             like
             a
             bubble
             in
             a
             brook
             ,
          
           
             That
             's
             broken
             in
             the
             twinckling
             of
             a
             look
             ?
          
           
             Or
             Globe
             upon
             a
             point
             perami●al
             ,
          
           
             That
             still
             on
             every
             side
             is
             like
             to
             fall
             :
          
           
             Lay
             hould
             upon
             Repentance
             man
             ;
             renew
          
           
             Thy
             peace
             with
             God
             ,
             and
             for
             his
             mercy
             sue
             :
          
           
             That
             in
             Deaths
             case
             ,
             and
             dismal
             times
             of
             danger
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             may'st
             not
             pass
             from
             hence
             to
             him
             a
             stranger
             .
          
        
         
           
             XVIII
             .
          
           
             Behould
             the
             grass
             so
             beautiful
             to
             sight
             ,
          
           
             Green
             in
             the
             morning
             ,
             and
             cut
             down
             e're
             night
             :
          
           
             So
             suddenly
             man
             falleth
             to
             decay
             ,
          
           
             And
             withers
             in
             his
             flesh
             as
             grass
             to
             hay
             :
          
           
             Then
             le●
             all
             Christians
             ,
             early
             and
             late
             ,
          
           
             Be
             truly
             mindful
             of
             our
             mortal
             state
             :
          
           
             In
             gracefulness
             may
             we
             daily
             thrive
             ,
          
           
             And
             glory
             our
             mortality
             survive
             .
          
        
         
           
             XIX
             .
          
           
             Like
             to
             the
             withered
             leafe
             before
             the
             winde
             ,
          
           
             Vaine
             man
             on
             earth
             no
             resting
             place
             can
             find
             ;
          
           
             For
             wheresoere
             〈…〉
             nes
             his
             eare
             or
             eye
             ,
          
           
             He
             is
             encounter'd
             still
             with
             vanity
             :
          
           
             How
             then
             must
             man
             order
             his
             resolution
             ,
          
           
             To
             obtaine
             rest
             ?
             by
             natures
             dissolution
             ?
          
           
             Beware
             man
             !
             if
             thou
             unrepented
             fall
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             birth
             was
             better
             then
             thy
             burial
             .
          
        
         
           
             XX.
             
          
           
             Uncertaine
             is
             the
             distance
             that
             we
             have
             ,
          
           
             Between
             the
             Womb
             that
             bare
             us
             and
             the
             grave
             :
          
           
             Some
             as
             the
             Gourd
             of
             Ionas
             by
             the
             worme
             ,
          
           
             Are
             by
             Death
             strangl'd
             ,
             soon
             as
             they
             are
             borne
             :
          
           
             Others
             perhaps
             ,
             bring
             seaventy
             years
             about
             ,
          
           
             Or
             live
             some
             longer
             date
             of
             Nature
             out
             :
          
           
             But
             which
             of
             all
             ,
             come
             safest
             unto
             reft
             ?
          
           
             Not
             they
             who
             live
             the
             longest
             ,
             but
             the
             best
             .
          
        
         
           
             XXI
             .
          
           
             Although
             long
             life
             ,
             be
             a
             reward
             indeed
             ,
          
           
             By
             promise
             due
             to
             all
             obedient
             seed
             :
          
           
             Yet
             't
             is
             not
             th'age
             of
             old
             Mathusalem
             ,
          
           
             Can
             bring
             us
             safest
             to
             Ierusalem
             :
          
           
             To
             which
             most
             happy
             ,
             they
             that
             mind
             their
             course
             ;
          
           
             But
             heedless
             Souls
             that
             do
             ,
             through
             Babels
             force
             ,
          
           
             Put
             their
             Conversions
             off
             from
             day
             to
             day
             ,
          
           
             The
             longer
             liv'd
             ,
             the
             more
             they
             loose
             their
             way
             .
          
        
         
           
             XXII
             .
          
           
             What
             Pestilence
             could
             not
             invite
             us
             to
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             cruel
             War
             compel
             our
             hearts
             to
             doe
             :
          
           
             Londons
             sad
             chance
             ,
             may
             make
             us
             understand
             ,
          
           
             And
             tremble
             at
             the
             Rigor
             of
             Gods
             hand
             ,
          
           
             VVho
             with
             his
             flameing
             sword
             ,
             hath
             now
             at
             last
          
           
             Mow'd
             down
             her
             streets
             ,
             and
             lay'd
             her
             all
             to
             wast
             :
          
           
             Sad
             case
             :
             but
             far
             more
             sad
             to
             tempt
             Gods
             ire
             ,
          
           
             Or
             mind
             him
             not
             ,
             till
             he
             appears
             in
             fire
             .
          
        
         
           
             XXIII
             .
          
           
             No
             sooner
             hath
             Saint
             ANDREW
             crown'd
             November
          
           
             But
             Boreas
             from
             the
             North
             ,
             brings
             cold
             December
             :
          
           
             And
             I
             have
             often
             heard
             a
             many
             say
             ,
          
           
             He
             brings
             the
             VVinter
             Moneth
             
               New
               Castle
            
             way
             :
          
           
             For
             comfort
             here
             of
             poor
             distressed
             Soules
             ,
          
           
             VVould
             he
             had
             with
             him
             brought
             a
             Fleet
             of
             Coles
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           in
           the
           Year
           ,
           1666.
           
        
      
    
  

