Think of the souls who were dear to you
When this life held them; still be true,
And pray for them now; it is all you can do.
Think of the souls who are lonely there,
With no one, perchance, to offer a prayer
That God may have pity on them and spare.
Think of the souls that have longest lain
In that place of exile and of pain,
Suffering still for some uncleansed stain.
Think of the souls who, perchance, may be
On the very threshold of liberty—
One "Ave Maria" may set them free!
Oh, then, at the close of each passing day,
When your work is finished and folded away,
Think of the suffering souls, and pray!
Think of their prison, so dark and dim,
Think of their longing to be with Him
Whose praises are sung by the cherubim!
As you tell the beads of your Rosary,
Ask God's sweet Mother their mother to be;
Her immaculate hands hold Heaven's key.
Oh, how many souls are suffering when
You whisper "Hail Mary" again and again,
May see God's face as you say "Amen!"
—Ave Maria, November 24, 1883.