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With all her high estates, are but as insects Hov'ring at mid-day o'er some tainted marsh. I know full well that no ignoble audience Are present, though from mortal eyes conceal'd. Farewell, my friends! kind, noble friends, farewell! Sylvius farewell! If thou should'st e'er be call'd To die a holy Martyr for the truth, God give thee then the joy which now I feel. But keep thy faith conceal'd, till useful service Shall call thee to maintain it. God be with thee! 'T is but a moment since he left thy side With eager haste.

He would not see my death. I'm glad he's gone. Say I inquired for him, and say I bless'd him. —Now I am ready. Earthly friends are gone. Angels and blessed spirits! to your fellowship A few short pangs will bring me. —O, Thou, who didst upon the Cross for us A willing suff'rer die! receive my soul! Almighty God and Sire, supreme o'er all! Pardon my sins and take me to Thyself!