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28 O what lingring Death is this,

Bliss inviting unto bliss.

By those Tasts of Love are we

But more Enamour'd of the Sea

Of Abyssal Love, whence come

The Flames that crown our Martyrdom.

Happy is the Soul that dies

Thus Loves daily Sacrifice.

O what kind of Pain is this,

Which is sweetest of all bliss

Oh! tis Pain intolerable!

Pleasure yet Unutterable

Such are these blest Flames which come

To crown us with Loves Martyrdom.

Happy, happy Soul that dies.

Thus Love's Living Sacrifice.

O we cry we cannot bear

Love's hot Flames, which domineer

In our Souls, and yet had we

Doom'd to Death far rather be,

Than to lose those Flames that come

To crown us with Loves Martyrdom

O thrice happy Soul that dies

Love's Eternal Sacrifice.

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