(5)
Tormentor do thine office On me. when thon think’ft beft; But God, mj heavenly Father, Shall bring my foul to reft
But oh! my aged Father, Wherever,thou doft lie, Thou knowell not thy poor daughter Is ready for to die ; But yet among God’s angels, In heav'n, I hope to dwell; Therefore, my living father, I bid thee now farewell.
Farewel, likewife, my mother; Adieu to my friends all ! God grant that you and others May hear when Chrift doth call: forfake your fuperftition, The caufe of mortal ftrife; Embrace Chrift's true religion, For which I lofe my life.
When all thefe words were uttered, Then came the min of death. Who kindled foan the flaming fire That flept the Virgin’s breath :
