Classic Poem

Heaven's glory in his heart and eye,
Mid crushing stones and taunting foes,
The martyr knelt in prayer to die;
And as he sank to God's repose,
Breathed, “Jesu Lord, receive my spirit.”

And on from age to age, since then,
Have saints their torches lit from his,
And children, maidens, matrons, men,
Pass'd with this watchword into bliss,
“O Jesu Lord, receive our spirit.”

Dear Master, kneeling at Thy cross;
They learn'd that they were not their own;
For Thee they held the world but loss,
Rich in this daily prayer alone,
Be Thine our body, soul, and spirit.

They died in peace, they sleep in Thee,
They wait the resurrection morn,
When clothed with immortality
Thy mystic Bride, the Church first born,
Shall wear Thy likeness, flesh and spirit.

In life and death, Lord, may I trust
My spirit where they trusted theirs?
O foolish heart, thy may is must,
And love in holy venture dares
Pray, When Thou wilt, receive my spirit.