A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed

If God compel thee to this destiny,

To die alone,—with none beside thy bed

To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said,

And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee,—

Then pray alone—"O Christ, come tenderly!

By Thy forsaken Sonship,—and the red

Drear wine-press,—and the wilderness outspread,—

And the lone garden where Thine agony

Fell bloody from Thy brow,—by all of those

Permitted desolations, comfort mine!

No earthly friend being near me, interpose

No deathly angel 'twixt my face and Thine;

But stoop Thyself to gather my life's rose.

And smile away my mortal to divine."