It was hard for Francis when one after another of his faithful followers came to him, and with tears reproached him for having given them into the hands of another. When they at last took in the fact that though the spirit might be willing, the flesh was too weak to do what it had once been able to do, their sorrow knew no bounds. Some of them were almost a little selfish in their grief.
"You will pass away," said one. "Your family will remain in the valley of tears. Who can take charge and direct it after you? If you know of one on whom your mind can rest, I conjure you to tell me."
"My son," said Francis, with tears, "I see no one around me equal to this task of being shepherd to so great a flock."
Foes.
Thus, tortured by bodily pain and weakness, and tormented by unseen foes and enemies of all that he counted dearest and most sacred, he entered upon the two last dark years, which were his Valley of the Shadow before the Eternal Sun rose, never to set again.
God of my life, through all my days
My grateful powers shall sound Thy praise,
My song shall wake with opening light,
And cheer the dark and silent night.
When anxious cares would break my rest,
And griefs would tear my throbbing breast,
Thy tuneful praises, raised on high,
Shall check the murmur and the sigh.
When death o'er nature shall prevail,
And all the powers of language fail,
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break
And mean the thanks I cannot speak.
But oh, when that last conflict's o'er,
And I am chained to earth no more,
With what glad accents shall I rise
To join the music of the skies!
The cheerful tribute will I give
Long as a deathless soul shall live;
A work so sweet, a theme so high,
Demands and crowns eternity!