The poem
These houres, and that which hovers o're my End, Into thy hands, and hart, lord, I commend.
Take Both to Thine Account, that I and mine In that Hour, and in these, may be all thine.
That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath To make a kind of Life for my lord's Death,
So from his living, and life-giving Death, My dying Life may draw a new, and never fleeting Breath.