Suddenly there rose from the Mission Compound, reverberant in the still air of dawn, those stately cadences, which are the chant of a world’s grief.
“Stabat Mater dolorosa,
Juxta crucem lacrymosa,
Dum pendebat filius,
Contristatem et dolentem,
Pertransivit gladius.”
The priest tottered.
From across the river sounded the halloo of a boatman. This was echoed and re-echoed from different parts. The riverside had awakened.
“Fac me cruce custodiri,
Morte Christi praemunire,