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“And so saying, he fell asleep.”
Martyrdom of Saint Stephen
ASLEEP! asleep! men talk of “sleep,” | |
| When all adown the silent deep | |
| The shades of night are stealing; | |
| When like a curtain, soft and vast, | |
| The darkness over all is cast, | 5 |
| And sombre stillness comes at last, | |
| To the mute heart appealing. | |
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| Asleep! asleep! when soft and low | |
| The patient watchers come and go, | |
| Their loving vigil keeping; | 10 |
| When from the dear eyes fades the light, | |
| When pales the flush so strangely bright, | |
| And the glad spirit takes its flight, | |
| We speak of death as “sleeping.” | |
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| Or when, as dies the orb of day, | 15 |
| The aged Christian sinks away, | |
| And the lone mourner weepeth; | |
| When thus the pilgrim goes to rest, | |
| With meek hands folded on his breast, | |
| And his last sigh a prayer confessed— | 20 |
| We say of such, “He sleepeth.” | |
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| But when amidst a shower of stones, | |
| And mingled curses, shrieks, and groans, | |
| The death-chill slowly creepeth; | |
| When falls at length the dying head, | 25 |
| And streams the life-blood dark and red, | |
| A thousand voices cry, “He ’s dead”; | |
| But who shall say, “He sleepeth”? | |
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| “He fell asleep.” A pen divine | |
| Hath writ that epitaph of thine; | 30 |
| And though the days are hoary, | |
| Yet beautiful thy rest appears— | |
| Unsullied by the lapse of years— | |
| And still we read, with thankful tears, | |
| The tale of grace and glory. | 35 |
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| Asleep! asleep! though not for thee | |
| The touch of loving lips might be, | |
| In sadly sweet leave-taking: | |
| Though not for thee the last caress, | |
| The look of untold tenderness, | 40 |
| The love that dying hours can press | |
| From hearts with silence breaking. | |
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