The Dream of Gerontius (part 7 of 7)

The Dream of Gerontius

(Excerpt from a newly published combined work available here)


Chapter 7

Angel

Now let the golden prison ope its gates,

Making sweet music, as each fold revolves

Upon its ready hinge. And ye, great powers,

Angels of Purgatory, receive from me

My charge, a precious soul, until the day,

When, from all bond and forfeiture released,

I shall reclaim it for the courts of light.  

Souls in Purgatory

Lord, Thou hast been our refuge: in every

       generation;

Before the hills were born, and the world was:           

       from age to age Thou art God.

Bring us not, Lord, very low: for Thou hast said,

       Come back again, ye sons of Adam.

A thousand years before Thine eyes are but as

       yesterday: and as a watch of the night which

       is come and gone.

The grass springs up in the morning: at evening

       tide it shrivels up and dies.

So we fail in Thine anger: and in Thy wrath are

       we troubled.

Thou hast set our sins in Thy sight: and our

       round of days in the light of Thy countenance.

Come back, O Lord! how long: and be entreated

       for Thy servants.

In Thy morning we shall be filled with Thy

       mercy: we shall rejoice and be in pleasure all

       our days.  

We shall be glad according to the days of our

       humiliation: and the years in which we have

       seen evil.

Look, O Lord, upon Thy servants and on Thy

       work: and direct their children.

And let the beauty of the Lord our God be

       upon us: and the work of our hands, establish

       Thou it.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the

       Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall

       be: world without end. Amen.

Angel

Softly and gently, dearly-ransom'd soul,

       In my most loving arms I now enfold thee,

And, o'er the penal waters, as they roll,

       I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee.

And carefully I dip thee in the lake,

       And thou, without a sob or a resistance,

Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take,

       Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance.  

Angels, to whom the willing task is given,

       Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou

            liest;

And masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven,

       Shall aid thee at the Throne of the Most

            Highest.

Farewell, but not for ever! brother dear,

       Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow;

Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,

       And I will come and wake thee on the morrow.

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Cameron ThompsonComment