Time was upon The wing, to fly away; And I call’d on Him but awhile to stay; But he’d be gone, For ought that I could say. He held out then A writing, as he went; And ask’d me, when False man would be content To pay again What God and Nature lent. An hour-glass, In which were sands but few, As he did pass, He show’d, and told me, too, Mine end near was; And so away he flew.