THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2254, 18 December 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL.

BY ADKLAIDK PHOCTOB.

The fettered spirits linger In puigatorial pain, With penal fires effacing Their last faint earthly stain ; Which life's imperfect sorrow Had tried to cleanse in vain. Yet on each feast of Mary Their sorrow finds release, For the great Archangel Michael Comes down and bids it cea*e ; And the name of these brief respites Is called " Our Lady's Peace." Yet once, so runs the legend, When the Archangel came, And all these holy spirits Rej«iced at Mary's name ; One voice alone was wailing, Still wailing ou the same. But though a great Te Deum The happy echoes woke, This one discordant wailing Through the sweet voices broke ; So when St. Michael questioned Thus the poor spirit spoke :—: — " I am not cold or thankless, Although I still complain, I prize Our Lady's blessings Although it comes in vain, To still my bitter anguish, Or quench my ceaseless pain. On earth a heart that loved me Still lives and mourns me there, And the shadow of his anguish Is more than 1 can bear ; All the torment that I suff er Is the thought of his despair. The evening of my bridal Death took my life away, Not all love's passionate pleading Could gain an hour's delay. And he I left has suffered A whole year since that day. If I could only see him, If I could only gi>, And speak one word of comfort And solace — then I know He would endure with patience, And strive against his woe." Thus the Archangel answered •' Your time of pain is brief, And soon the peace of heaven Will give you full relief ; Yet if his earthly comfort So much outweighs your grief, Then through a special mercy I offer you this grace, — You may seek him who mourns you And look upon his face, And speak to him of comfort For one short minute's space. But when that time is ended Return here and remain A thousand years in torment, A thousand years in pain ; Thus dearly rnu->t you purchase The comfort he will gain. The lime tree shade at evening Is spreading broad and widft, Beneath their fragrant arches Pace slowly side by side, In low and tender converse A bridegroom and his bride. The night is calm and stilly No other sound is there Except their happy voices ; What is that cold bleak air That pusses through the lime trees And stirs the brigegroora's hair ? While one low cry of anguish Like the last dying wail, Of some dumb hauntpd creature Is borne upon the gale ;— Why does the bridegroom ah udder And turn so deadly pale ? Near purgatory's entrance The radient angels wait, It was the great St. Michael Who closed that gloomy gate ; When the poor wandering spirit Came back to meet her fate. "Pass on" thus spoke the angel "Heaven's joy b deep and vast, Pass on, pas.s on, poor spirit For heaven is yours, at last, In that one minute's anguish Fotu thousand ye&rs have passed."