Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.
In death a hero, as in life a friend!
Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.
No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n; But such plain roofs as Piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
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