THE DEATH OF TANKERFIELD.
The death of holy Tankerfield,
That martyr of the Lord's,
And his great worth I do set forth
As seasonable words.
That martyr of the Lord's,
And his great worth I do set forth
As seasonable words.
In young King Edward's blessed time,
A Papist vile was he;
Uncleansèd from the filthy slime
Of vain idolatry.
A Papist vile was he;
Uncleansèd from the filthy slime
Of vain idolatry.
But when it pleased the Lord most high
To take the king away,
Unto his everlasting rest,
To be with him alway,—
To take the king away,
Unto his everlasting rest,
To be with him alway,—
When bloody Mary's reign began,
Wherein the flock of Christ
Did wander through the valleys low,
And stumble in the mist,—
Wherein the flock of Christ
Did wander through the valleys low,
And stumble in the mist,—
