Classic Poem

Thou LIFE which Life art calde, and yet art Death ,
Thou DEATH, which Death art termde, and yet art Life ,
Say; which of you maintaine my vitall breath,
Within this wretched Vale of Worldly strife?
 Say, which prolongs my Life , most of you Twaine?
 Or thou LIFE, or thou DEATH: say both the same.

I (more then LIFE) straight DEATH doth answer make.
Nay, I (quoth LIFE) farre more then DEATH, to me,
And for this Cause this only Name I take
Of LIFE, which by my meanes alone can be.
 Because whilst I within thy Body live,
  Death no way can thee hinder, hurt, or grieve.

But I, by cutting off (DEATH straight replies)
This slender Thred, whereby Men runne their race,
Bring every Faithfull soule , in friendly wise,
Where he a better path (for aye) may trace,
 Making him leade a Life eternallie,
 A LIFE, that (still) doth live, and never die.

Wherefore, what ere he be, that meanes to joy
This other LIFE that is Celestiall ,
He must not scorne (to scape from worlds annoy)
Nor thinke it much, to come when DEATH shall call,
 For DEATH, not LIFE, doth help us at the end,
 LIFE is our Foe, but DEATH, our dearest Friend.