Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of…

"Sister," quoth Flesh, "what liv'st thou on Nothing but Meditation?

Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime, Before the sun hath thoroughly heat the clime.

If for thy Father askt, say, thou hadst none; And for thy Mother, she alas is poor, Which caus'd her thus to send thee out of door.

A Spring returns, and they more youthful made; But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.

What to my Saviour shall I give Who freely hath done this for me? I'll serve him here whilst I shall live And Loue him to Eternity

Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire, Fly back and sing amidst this choir.