He calls thee now from this rude stormy world
To thy Redeemer’s breast! And thou wilt die,
As thou hast lived—my duteous, holy Blanche!
In trusting and serene submissiveness,
Humble, yet full of heaven.
Blanche, (rising.) Now is there strength
Infused through all my spirit. I can rise
And say, “Thy will be done!”
D’Aubigné, (pointing upwards.) See’st thou, my child!
Yon faint light in the west? The signal star