Whereupon M. Vitus replied—
"He was a rector scholæ out of Stargard, a very learned man, who had retired from active life, and settled down here at Bruchhausen, where he died not long since."
Whereat the poor sinner stood still a while, and then repeated this beautiful distich, no doubt by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, to warn all learned sinners against that demon of pride and vain-glory which too often takes possession of them.
"Quid juvat innumeros scire atque evolvere casus
Si facieuda fugis et fugienda facis?"
["What is the use of knowledge and all our infinite learning,
If we fly what is right and do what we ought to fly?">[
Then he looked calmly at his grave, and only prayed the executioner not to put his head between his feet; after which he returned to the sand-heap and exclaimed—
"Now to God!"
Upon which, M. Vitus blessed him yet again, and spake—
"O God, Father, who hast brought back this lost son, and filled this foolish soul with wisdom; ah! Jesus, Saviour, who, in truth, hast turned Thy holy eyes on him as on the denying Peter and on the dying thief. O Holy Spirit, who hast not scorned to make this poor vessel a temple for Thyself to dwell in, that in the death-anguish this sinner may find the sweetness of Thy presence and the heaven-high comfort of Thy promises! O Thou Holy Trinity—to Thee—to Thee—to Thee—to Thy grace, Thy power, Thy protection, we resign this dying mortal in his last agonies. Help him, Lord God! Kyrle Eleison! Give Thy holy angels command to bear this poor soul into Abraham's bosom. O come, Lord Jesus; help him, O Lord our God. Kyrie Eleison! Amen."
And hereupon he pronounced a last blessing over him. And when the executioner took off his upper garment and bound the kerchief over his eyes, M. Vitus again spake—