The Dream of Gerontius

Gerontius Jesu, Maria—I am near to death, And Thou art calling me; I know it now— Not by the token of this faltering breath, This chill at heart, this dampness on my brow,

(Jesu, have mercy! Mary, pray for me!)— ’Tis this new feeling, never felt before, (Be with me, Lord, in my extremity!) That I am going, that I am no more. ’Tis this strange innermost abandonment, (Lover of souls! great God! I look to Thee,) This emptying out of each constituent And natural force, by which I come to be. Pray for me, O my friends; a visitant Is knocking his dire summons at my door, The like of whom, to scare me and to daunt, Has never, never come to me before; ’Tis death,—O loving friends, your prayers!—’tis he!... As though my very being had given way, As though I was no more a substance now, And could fall back on nought to be my stay, (Help, loving Lord! Thou my sole Refuge, Thou,) And turn no whither, but must needs decay And drop from out the universal frame Into that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss, That utter nothingness, of which I came: This is it that has come to pass in me; O horror! this it is, my dearest, this; So pray for me, my friends, who have not strength to pray.