For in that hereafter, afar beyond the bended sky,
Bread and butter will not figure in the bill of fare,
Nor will the soul be judged by what the flesh may wear.
Here is the spirit in which he describes and meets death:
Come forward here to me, ye who have a fear of death,
Come down, far down, even to the dark waves' rim,
And take my hand, and feel my calm, low breath;
How peaceful all! How still and sweet! The sight is dim,
And dreamy as a distant sea. And melodies do swim
Around us here as afar-off vesper's holy hymn.