"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,            

 And God fulfils Himself in many ways,

 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

 Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

 I have lived my life, and that which I have done

 May He within Himself make pure! but thou,

 If thou shouldst never see my face again,

 Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer

 Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice

 Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

 For what are men better than sheep or goats                

 That nourish a blind life within the brain,

 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer

 Both for themselves and those who call them friend?

 For so the whole round earth is every way

 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.

But now farewell.”