'Twas the soul of Ernest Faithful
Loosed from its home of clay—
Its mission on earth completed,
To the judgment passed away.
'Twas the soul of Ernest Faithful
Stood at the bar above,
Where the deeds of men are passed upon
In justice, but in love.
And an angel questioned Faithful
Of the life just passed on earth!
What could he plead of virtue,
What could he count of worth.
And the soul of Ernest Faithful
Trembled in sore dismay;
And from the judgment angel's gaze
Shuddering, turned away.
For memory came and whispered
How worldly was that life;
Unfairly plotting, sometimes,
In anger and in strife;
For a selfish end essaying
To treasures win or fame,
And the soul of Ernest cowered 'neath
The angel's eye of flame.
Then from a book the angel drew
A leaf with name and date,
A record of this Ernest's life
Wove in the looms of Fate.
And said: "O, Faithful, answer me,
Here is a midnight scroll,
What didst thou 'neath the stars that night?
Didst linger o'er the bowl?
"Filling the night with revelry
With cards and wine and dice,
And adding music's ecstacy,
To give more charms to vice?"
Then the soul of Faithful answered,
"By the bedside of a friend
I watched the long hours through; that night
His life drew near its end."