Doth older grow, let me bestow the laver’s saving rite.”
The water brought, redemption’s stream o’er David flowed that hour,
And sparkled on his forehead white like dewdrops on a flower.
“Te Deum laudamus” chanted then the choristers with joy,
And rushed to give a kiss of peace unto the happy boy.
But what is this? He does not stir nor lift his bended head!
David, his white robe yet unstained, was kneeling calm and dead.
On that Te Deum’s outstretched wings his soul had upward soared
To keep in heaven its Christmas morn with Mary and his Lord.