Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.
From An Epitaphe upon the Death of Mayster John Viron, PreacherCXXVIII. John Awdelie
F
And never ceased to make thee from fayth to fayth proceede.
There restes no more for you hys paynes now to requite,
But so to walke as he you taught, and speake of hym the ryght.
Lament thou mayst also wyth us, a woorkeman thus to leese.
Thy harvest is so great, and laborers so fewe;
Yea, of those fewe some loyterers full yll themselves do shewe.
That seeing harvest is so great, and woorkemen’s nomber small,
Our fruit must needes be lost, ourselves to famishe brought,
Our land layde lyke a wyldernes, and brought at length to nought.
Spare thou our woorkemen, and more send, that labour will with sweate;
That, as we mone for John environed by death,
Thou wylt us glad wyth many a Paule enspirde with heavenly breath.