No cause deferr'd, no vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king's attorney;
Who pleads for all without degrees;
And he hath angels, but no fees.
And when the twelve grand million jury
Of our sins, with direful fury
Against our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader!
Unblotted lawyer! true proceeder!
Thou wouldst salvation e'en for alms,
Not with a bribed lawer's palms.
And this is mine eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea;
That since my flesh must die so soon,
And want ahead to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head!
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,
To tread those bless' d paths which before I writ.
Of death and judgment, heaven and hell,
Who oft doth think, must needs die well.
The germ of the first stanza is to be found in P. Louis Richeome's Pilgrim of Loreto. "Our Pilgrim," he says, "shall allegorize all the parts of his furniture and apparel, and shall attire his soul to
