All cares and feares, he bids farewell
and meanes in safity now to dwell.
A pilgrim I, on earth, perplext,
Wth sinns wth cares and sorrows vext
By age and paines brought to decay.
And my Clay house mouldring away
Oh how I long to be at rest
and soare on high among the blesst.
This body shall in silence sleep
Mine eyes no more shall ever weep
No fainting fits shall me assaile
nor grinding paines my body fraile
Wth cares and fears n'er cumbred be
Nor losses know, nor sorrows see
What tho my flesh shall there consume
it is the bed Christ did perfume
And when a few yeares shall be gone
this mortall shall be cloth'd upon
A corrupt Carcasse downe it lyes
A glorious body it shall rise
In weakness and dishonour sowne
in power 'tis rais'd by Christ alone
When soule and body shall unite
and of their maker have the sight
Such lasting joyes shall there behold
as eare ne'r heard nor tongue e'er told
Lord make me ready for that day
then Come dear bridegrome, Come away.
The long waiting ended at last, and her son, Simon Bradstreet, wrote in his diary:
"Sept. 16, 1672. My ever honoured & most dear Mother was translated to Heaven. Her death was occasioned by a consumption being wasted to skin & bone & she had an issue made in her arm bee: she was much troubled with rheum, & one of ye women yt tended herr dressing her arm, s'd shee never saw such an arm in her Life, I, s'd my most dear Mother but yt shall bee a Glorious Arm.
