How many have died like St. Oswald, Archbishop of York, and the Venerable Bede, repeating the Gloria Patri—that act of praise which St. Jerome found in constant use among the oriental monks, and was the means of introducing it into the western church, where it is now daily repeated by countless tongues.
St. Ignatius Loyola died with the holy name of Jesus on his lips, that watchword of his glorious order so full of sweetness to the heart. So did that angelic youth, St. Aloysius. St. Hubert died repeating the Lord's Prayer; St. Stephen of Grandmont while saying, "Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." So did St. John of the Cross, St. Catharine of Genoa, and hundreds of others.
St. Arsenius, after more than fifty years spent in the desert, regarded death with fear. His brethren, seeing him weep in his agony, asked him if, like other men, he feared to die. "I am seized with great fear," he answered, "nor has this dread ever left me since I first came into the desert." Nevertheless, he expired, in peace and humble confidence, in his ninety-fifth year.
St. John Chrysostom, when dying, had all his clothes changed, even to his shoes, putting on his best garments, which were white, as for his heavenly nuptials; for "to one who loves," says Novalis, "death is a mystery of sweet mysteries—it is a bridal night." He then received the blessed sacrament and prayed, ending according to his custom, with, "Glory be to God for all things." Then making the sign of the cross, he gave up his soul.[39]
We read of the poet-monk Cædmon, "That tongue, which had composed so many holy words in praise of the Creator, uttered its last words while he was in the act of signing himself with the cross, and thus he fell into a slumber to awaken in paradise and join in the hymns of the holy angels whom he had imitated in this world, both in his life and in his songs."[40]
The account of the death of the Venerable Bede is well known, but it is one that can always be read again and again with renewed profit, and never without emotion.
"About a fortnight before the feast of Easter," says his disciple Cuthbert, "he was reduced to a state of great debility, with difficulty of breathing, but without much pain, and in that condition he lasted till the day of the Lord's Ascension. This time he passed cheerfully and joyfully, giving thanks to Almighty God both by day and night, or rather at all hours of the day and night. He continued to give lessons to us daily, spending the rest of his time in psalmody, and the night also in joy and thanksgiving, unless he were interrupted by a short sleep; and yet, even then, the moment he awaked he began again, and never ceased, with outstretched hands, to return thanks to God. I can declare with truth that I never saw with my eyes, nor heard with my ears, of any man who was so indefatigable in giving thanks to the living God.
"O truly happy man! He chanted the passage from the blessed Apostle Paul, 'It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,' and several other passages from Holy Writ, warning us to throw off all torpor of soul, in consideration of our last hour. And being conversant with Anglo-Saxon poetry, he repeated several passages and composed the following lines in our tongue:
'Before the need-fare
None becometh
Of thought more wise
Than is his need.
To search out
Ere his going hence,
What his spirit
For good or evil
After his death-day
Doomed may be.'He also chanted the antiphons according to his and our custom. One of these is, 'O King of glory, Lord of hosts, who on this day didst ascend in triumph above all the heavens, leave us not orphans, but send upon us the Spirit of truth, the promised of the Father. Alleluia.' When he came to the words 'leave us not orphans,' he burst into tears and wept much; and after a while he resumed where he had broken off, and we who heard him wept with him. We wept and studied by turns; or rather wept all the time that we studied.
"Thus we passed in joy the quinquagesimal days till the aforesaid festival, and he rejoiced greatly, and gave thanks to God for the infirmities under which he suffered, often repeating, 'God scourgeth every son whom he receiveth,' with other passages of Scripture, and the saying of St. Ambrose, 'I have not lived so as to be ashamed to live among you; nor do I fear to die, for we have a gracious God.'
"During these days, beside the lessons which he gave us, and the chant of the psalms, he undertook the composition of two memorable works; that is, he translated into our language the Gospel of St. John as far as 'But what are those among so many?' [St. John vi. 9,] and made a collection of extracts from the notes of Isidore the bishop, saying, 'I will not suffer my pupils to read falsehoods, and labor without profit in that book, after my death.' But on the Tuesday before the Ascension his difficulty of breathing began to distress him exceedingly, and a slight tumor appeared in his feet. He spent the whole day and dictated to us with cheerfulness, saying occasionally, 'Lose no time; I know not how long I may last. Perhaps in a very short time my Maker may take me.' In fact, it seemed to us that he knew the time of his death. He lay awake the whole night praising God, and at dawn on the Wednesday morning ordered us to write quickly, which we did till the hour of tierce. At that hour we walked in procession with the relics, as the rubric for the day prescribed; but one of us remained to wait on him, and said to him, 'Dearest master, there still remains one chapter unwritten; will it fatigue you if I ask more questions?' 'No,' said Bede; 'take your pen and mend it, and write quickly.' This he did.
"At noon he said to me, 'I have some valuables in my little chest—pepper, handkerchiefs, and incense. Run quickly and bring the priests of the monastery to me, that I may make to them such presents as God hath given to me. The rich of this world give gold and silver and other things of value; I will give to my brethren what God hath given to me, and will give it with love and pleasure.' I shuddered, but did as he had bidden. He spoke to each one in his turn, reminding and entreating them to celebrate masses, and to pray diligently for him, which all readily promised to do.
"When they heard him say that they would see him no more in this world, all burst into tears; but their tears were tempered with joy when he said, 'It is time that I return to Him who made me out of nothing I have lived long, and kindly hath my merciful Judge forecast the course of my life for me. The time of my dissolution is at hand. I wish to be released and to be with Christ.' In this way he continued to speak cheerfully till sunset, when the fore-mentioned youth said, 'Beloved master, there is still one sentence unwritten.' 'Then write quickly,' said Bede. In a few minutes the youth said, 'It is finished.' 'Thou hast spoken truly,' replied Bede; 'take my head between thy hands, for it is my delight to sit opposite to that holy place in which I used to pray; let me sit and invoke my Father.' Sitting thus on the pavement of the cell, and repeating, 'Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,' as he finished the word 'Ghost,' he breathed his last and took his departure for heaven."[41]
We read that St. Dunstan had Mass celebrated in his room on the day of his death; and after communicating, he broke forth into the following prayer, "Glory be to thee, Almighty Father, who hast given the bread of life from heaven to those that fear thee, that we may be mindful of thy wonderful mercy to man in the incarnation of thine only-begotten Son, born of the Virgin. To thee, Holy Father, for that when we were not, thou didst give to us a being, and when we were sinners, didst grant to us a Redeemer, we give due thanks through the same thy Son, our Lord and God, who with thee and the Holy Ghost maketh all things, governeth all things, and liveth through ages and ages without end." Shortly afterward he died in the sixty-fourth year of his age.
The Cistercian abbot Aelred of Yorkshire died in wonderful peace after eight years of monastic life, repeating with his last breath, "I will sing eternally, O Lord, thy mercy, thy mercy, thy mercy!"