"Sweet Christ! let him live, ah! we need his life,
And woe to us if he goes!
Oh! his life is beautiful, sweet, and fair,
Like a holy hymn, and the stillest prayer;
Let him linger to help us in the strife
On earth, with our sins and woes."
'Twas the cry of thousands who loved him so,
The Angel of Death said: "No! oh! no!"
He was passing away — and none might save
The virgin priest from a spotless grave.
"O God! spare his life, we plead and pray,
He taught us to love You so —
So, so much — his life is so sweet and fair —
A still, still song — and a holy prayer;
He is our Father; oh! let him stay —
He gone, to whom shall we go?"
'Twas the wail of thousands who loved him so,
But the Angel of Death murmured low: "No, no;"
And the voice of his angel from far away,
Sang to Christ in heav'n: "He must not stay."
"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.