On my dying day, I ask this, if stripped of all gold, money, and wealth, all happiness, comfort, luxury, and property, that seated or lifted up or chained, I may have a Psalm within my hands, within my mind, readied for my death, and that placed upon my heart and being within it, one verse, one prayer, in the refuge of your words, I become an utterance to our Father in heaven. Place me within your Psalm, beside your mighty right arm, and lift me upwards, as you, Lord, did ascend, crucified and bleeding, and praying from the depths of your spirit towards your Father, the God of heaven.