but when he departs this life he will incur the hatred of all, both men and devils and angels, and thus, by reason of his poor-spirited service, he will lose eternal joy and grace.
At life’s end we shall know
What account we must show:
Holding cheap the All-wise,
’Tis the flesh we most prize;
Lip-worship’s enough,
While our body we stuff!
We pursue joys above
Like a cat that’s in love
With fish, but to fish
By no means doth wish!
There’s one like a cat
Whom you may guess at,
Foul and greedy and slow,
False and crafty and low;
With pride too he’s puffed:
But of this quite enough!
With such do not stand,
Or in judgment you’ll land.
I leave you, friend Duba,
My horse-cloth and bag.[1]
Remember me, please,
Whene’er you eat cheese.
May God be your crown
For all you have done.
May Hus have a part
In the grace of your heart!
May you die in the Lord,
A true saint adored!
- ↑ Manticam cum ephippio.
