"
"O Mary! kneel at the great white throne,
And pray with your children there --
Our hearts need his heart -- 'tis sweet and fair,
Like the sound of hymns and the breath of prayer,
Goeth he now -- we are lone -- so lone,
And who is there left to care?"
'Twas the cry of the souls who loved him so --
But the Angel of Death sang: "Children, no!"
And a voice like Christ's from the far away,
Sounded sweet and low: "He may not stay."
From his sister's heart swept the wildest moan:
"O God let my brother stay --
I need him the most -- oh! me! how lone,
If he passes from earth away --
O beautiful Christ, for my poor sake
Let him live for me, else my heart will break."
But the Angel of Death wept: "Poor child! no,"
And Christ sang: "Child, I will soothe thy woe."
"O Christ! let his sister's prayer be heard,
Let her look on his face once more!
Ah! that prayer was a wail -- without a word --
She will look on him nevermore!"
The long gray distances unmoved swept
'Tween the dying eyes and the eyes that wept.
He was dying fast, and the hours went by,
Ah! desolate hours were they!
His mind had hidden away somewhere
Back of a fretted and wearied brow,
Ere he passed from life away.
And one who loved him (at dead of night),
Crept up to an altar, where the light
That guards Christ's Eucharistic sleep,
Shone strangely down on his vow:
"Spare him! O God! -- O God! for me,
Take me, beautiful Christ, instead;
Let me taste of death and come to Thee,
I will sleep for him with the dead.
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