XXIV.
SEPARATION.
Thou art going, thou art going, o'er the far Atlantic deep,
To the land across whose arid plains the hot siroccos sweep,
Where the sun glares down the livelong day with fierce unclouded light,
And the tiger's yell breaks fitfully on the brief unrestful night.
Thou art going, thou art going, 'mid a stranger race to dwell,
Far from the altars of thy home, and the friends thou hast loved so well;
Far from the dear remembrances of thy cloister-nurtured youth,
From the shrines of ancient glory and the citadels of truth.
Yes, Brother, thou art going, and we may not wish thy stay,
But oft the heart shall follow thee, when thou art far away,
Shall track thine uncompanioned way through Afric's pathless woods,
And commune with thy spirit 'mid her voiceless solitudes.
Tis thine to tread the path the Church's missioners have trod,
In the Name and love of Jesus, and with the Saints of God;
Ignatius' hero zeal shall be thy fainting spirit's stay,
Meek Xavier's dauntless charity shall cheer thy toilsome way.
Good is the cloistral stillness, and the monk's ascetic rule,
Good the penance and the twisted scourge of the Trappist's hardy school;
Loud rolls the noble liturgy through the high cathedral dome,
Sweet is the quiet saintliness of a pure and Christian home.
But better than the chanted rite, and the cloister's lonesome vow,
Better than home's meek sanctities is the path thou hast chosen now;
Press on, press on, right hopefully, in the living strength of faith
Through the mission's daily martyrdom to a more than martyr's death.
By one fierce pang the martyrs gained the palm-branch and the crown,
Henceforth by daily dying thy triumphs shall be won;
But through that life in death will shine a radiance from above,
A radiance that is not of earth, the deathless light of love.
And oh! thy toils will be o'erpaid at that last and awful Day,
When before His face the sunlight fades, and the mountains flee away;
When those to whom thy lips have made the eternal Gospel known,
Shall arise and call thee blessed before the great white throne.
Farewell, farewell, dear Brother, perchance it may be given
To hold sweet converse here once more, ere the bands of flesh be riven;
Perchance we ne'er may meet again till the dread Judgment Day,
Thou art going, thou art going, and we may not wish thy stay.
Farewell, a sad farewell, yet we need ne'er be lonely-hearted,
Though the deep sea roll between us, our spirits are not parted;
In one Faith and to one Father shall our intercessions rise,
Before the many altars of the one true Sacrifice.
