For In That Sleep Of Death What

I Go, I Go, Look How I Go, Swifter Than An Arrow From A Bow

Love For Thy Love , And Hand For Hand I Give.

O My Good Lord, That Comfort Comes Too Late, 'tis Like A Pardon After Execution. That Gentle Physic, Given In Time, Had Cured Me; But Now I Am Past All Comforts Here But Prayers.

Speak Comfortable Words.

Crabbed Age And Youth Cannot Live Together: Youth Is Full Of Pleasance, Age Is Full Of Care.