Four of the lost rose with her, well content.
The smoke of Hell curled darkly far beneath,
The blue of Heaven gleamed fair and bright in view,
Life quivered in the balance over Death.
Almost had life prevailed when, “Who are you,”
The soul cried out with startled, jealous breath,
“Who hang so heavily, going where I go?
God never meant to save you! It is I,
I whom he sent for from the Place of Wo.
Loosen your hold at once!” Then suddenly