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The Death of Bede

Far, upon the northern shore,

Stands the holy house at Jarrow;

In its unmoving sanctity,

As eternal as the Yarrow.

For think not, these stones that lifeless seem,

Unblent with remembrance are;

But bear they witness with the moon above,

And with the Evening Star.

Bear they witness to the ancient day,

And to the centuries in their course;

Bear they witness to the Saxon kings,

To the Viking and the Norse.

But ere by pagan raids reduc’d,

And by the rough hand of Time,

Dwelt there one bless’d and pious soul,

In those stones’ honour’d prime.

Whose life was made a testament,

Unto his Lord and to his Nation,

Whose solace was in the holy book,

And in the wisdom of Creation.

One, who in God’s service liv’d,

To whom Death came as Friend,

Who, yearning for bright Heaven’s joys,

Unto His will didst bend.

For the Angel did come unto Bede,

Gently, in the Easter-tide,

And he knew upon the earth,

His soul would not long abide.

And thus he spake unto his fellow

Brethren of the Cross;

Yet could they hardly comprehend,

The sorrow of this heavy loss.

Like unto the angels bright,

They hover’d round his bed;

While their brother’s parting soul,

Full heavenward was sped.

And breathless, Bede laid dying fast,

Where the brothers vigil kept,

Round that reverend father’s bed,

While silently they wept.

Upon that dark and distant shore,

The clear bell toll’d midnight,

While Father Bede, upon his bed,

Receiv’d the shriver’s holy rite.

And at the last pangs of death,

The gather’d mourners, they grew dumb;

But Father Bede, he rais’d himself,

Saying, “Lord Jesu, Even so come!”

For to see their holy brother thus,

The mourners’ hearts turn’d sad and numb;

But Father Bede, he rais’d himself,

Saying, “Lord Jesu, Even so come!”

“Lord Jesu, now homeward bends my soul,”

Offer’d Bede his prayers unto that One;

And falling faint upon the floor, he died,

Singing, “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son!”

Now lonely stand the stony relics,

Of that ancient house at Jarrow;

Though still sweet sanctuary it bestows,

Upon the blackbird and the sparrow.

And with their dulcet ton’d refrain,

Bede’s echo’d prayers unite;

Bound by one deep harmony,

To that Throne of Sacred Light!