I am resolved to spend my last day on this earth, if this be it, writing letters to my father and my sister Catherine. I write more in sorrow than in anger to my father for he has hastened my death when he should have been the one person to have lengthened it. I tell him that although he may be woeful, yet to me there is nothing more welcome than to go from this vale of misery and to aspire to that heavenly throne of all joy and pleasure, with Christ my saviour, in whose steadfast faith, the lord strengthened him. I tell him I hope the lord will continue to strengthen him until we meet again in heaven with the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
I write to Catherine that I am sending her a book which, although not trimmed with gold, is inwardly worth more than precious stones. It is a book of the
