When death, is coming near, And thy heart shrinks in fear, And thy limbs fail, Then raise thy hands and pray To Him who smooths the way Through the dark vale.
Seest thou the eastern dawn! Hear'st thou, in the red morn, The angel's song? Oh! lift thy drooping head, Thou, who in gloom and dread Hast lain so long.
Death comes to set thee free, Oh! meet him cheerily, As thy true friend And all thy fears shall cease, And In eternal peace Thy penance end.
'In eternal peace,' repeated Guy; 'I did not think it would have been so soon. I can't think where the battle has been. I never thought my life could be so bright. It was a foolish longing, when first I was ill, for the cool waves of Redclyffe bay and that shipwreck excitement, if I was to die. This is far better. Read me a psalm, Amy, "Out of the deep."'
There was something in his perfect happiness that would not let her grieve, though a dull heavy sense of consternation was growing on her. So it went on through the night--not a long, nor a dreary one--but more like a dream. He dozed and woke, said a few tranquil words, and listened to some prayer, psalm, or verse, then slept again, apparently without suffering, except when he tried to take the cordials, and this he did with such increasing difficulty, that she hardly knew how to bear to cause him so much pain, though it was the last lingering hope. He strove to swallow them, each time with the mechanical 'Thank you,' so affecting when thus spoken; but at last he came to, 'It is of no use; I cannot.'
Then she knew all hope was gone, and sat still, watching him. The darkness lessened, and twilight came. He slept, but his breath grew short, and unequal; and as she wiped the moisture on his brow, she knew it was the death-damp.
Morning light came on--the church bell rang out matins--the white hills were tipped with rosy light. His pulse was almost gone--his hand was cold. At last he opened his eyes. 'Amy! he said, as if bewildered, or in pain.
'Here, dearest!'
'I don't see.'
At that moment the sun was rising, and the light streamed in at the open window, and over the bed; but it was "another dawn than ours" that he beheld as his most beautiful of all smiles beamed over his face, and he said, 'Glory in the Highest!--peace--goodwill'--A struggle for breath gave an instant's look of pain, then he whispered so that she could but just hear--'The last prayer.' She read the Commendatory Prayer. She knew not the exact moment, but even as she said 'Amen' she perceived it was over. The soul was with Him with whom dwell the spirits of just men made perfect; and there lay the earthly part with a smile on the face. She closed the dark fringed eyelids--saw him look more beautiful than in sleep--then, laying her face down on the bed, she knelt on. She took no heed of time, no heed of aught that was earthly. How long she knelt she never knew, but she was roused by Anne's voice in a frightened sob--'My lady, my lady--come away! Oh, Miss Amabel, you should not be here.'