On Lazarus in Abrahams Bosome

From sorrowes straights, wherein we launch our lives,
In his hopes Haven Lazarus arrives,
And wonders in how short a flight of time,
He to that Crowne of happinesse could climbe;
From Ragges and company of Dogges, to sort
Himselfe with Princes of that glorious Court,
There with those armes, that on the Altar plac'd,
Our dying Saviours lively type embrac'd.
O blissefull change! to be incircled so,
What King would not his Diadem forgoe?