text_original: DEATH. Thy Saviour thou hast grieved sore, But time with thee shall be no more; For when the Lord did thee invite, The ways of sin was thy delight. SINNER. Oh spare me, Death, a little space, That I may run the Christian race! Methinks I hear the Saviour say, Oh spare him yet another day; DEATH.
text_transcription: DEATH THY SAVIOUR THOU HAST GRIEVED SORE BUT TIME WITH THEE SHALL BE NO MORE FOR WHEN THE LORD DID THEE INVITE THE WAYS OF SIN WAS THY DELIGHT SINNER O SPARE ME DEATH A LITTLE SPACE THAT I MAY RUN THE CHRISTIAN RACE METHINKS I HEAR THE SAVIOUR SAY O SPARE HIM YET ANOTHER DAY DEATH
phonemes: dˈɛθ. ðˌaɪ sˈeɪvjɚ ðˈaʊ hˈeɪst ɡɹˈiːvd sˈɔːɹ, bˌʌt tˈaɪm wɪð ðiː ʃˌæl biː nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ; fɔːɹ wɛn ðə lˈɔːɹd dˈɪd ðiː ɪnvˈaɪt, ðə wˈeɪz ʌv sˈɪn wʌz ðˌaɪ dᵻlˈaɪt. sˈɪnɚ. ˈoʊ spˈɛɹ mˌiː, dˈɛθ, ɐ lˈɪɾəl spˈeɪs, ðæt aɪ mˈeɪ ɹˈʌn ðə kɹˈɪstʃən ɹˈeɪs! miːθˈɪŋks aɪ hˈɪɹ ðə sˈeɪvjɚ sˈeɪ, ˈoʊ spˈɛɹ hˌɪm jˈɛt ɐnˈʌðɚ dˈeɪ; dˈɛθ.