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HISTORY OP BISHOP AUCKLAND. 169 heavily, with his eyes closed, or when open, still fixed npon the crncifiz. Abont half-past six, Father Rowe said that he wonld go and say mass for him, and an intelligent look showed that his intention was appreciated. Just after seven a sadden change came over the Father ; his head turned a little to the right, his breathing seemed to stop ; a few spasmodic gasps followed, and his spirit passed away. In those last moments his eyes opened, dear, bright, intelligent as ever, in spite of the look of agony on his face, but opened to the sight of nothing earthly, with a touching expression, half of sweetness, and half of surprise. His own words came forcibly upon one who knelt before him, for it seemed the realiza- tion of the picture which he himself had drawn : — " Only serve Jesus out of love, and while your eyes are yet unclosed, before the whiteness of death is yet settled upon your face, or those around you are sure that that last gentle breathing was indeed your last, what an unspeakable surprise will you have had at the judgment-seat of your dearest Love, while the songs of heaven are breaking on your ears, and the glory of Qod is dawning on your eyes, to fade away no more for ever !" * For this was the end of a life which from first to last had been religious. In early childhood the things of God had been his joy ; as he grew up he had sought painfully and anxiously the truth as it is in Christ, and then had given up all to find it. Every letter tells that it was his engrossing thought, every line of poetry bears the mark of heavenly aspiration ; the golden words wherein his work will be still continued, and the sweet music of his hymns of praise, speak in language which cannot be mistaken the singleness of purpose with which he sought the interests of Jesus, and the chivalrous ardour with which he promoted the Church's cause. To this he devoted talents, energy, and health, only caring to labour where the Will of God had placed him, and thus, when he came to die, his history might have been written in the simple words — ^he served Jesus out of love. He was interred at St. Mary's, Sydenham, on the 30th of the same month. The same writer sajrs : — It was a fine autumnal day, and the sun shone brightly as Father Fabei^s body passed slowly down the walks which he had so often trodden, and was laid in the quiet little burial-ground, which he had himself marked out and planted round. His grave had been prepared at the foot of the cross of its consecration, and there, with the conviction that they would never look upon his like again, his sorrowing children left him. " Words cannot reproduce the gracious presence, the musical voice, the captivating smile — can- not give back to earthly life the charm of person or the facination of manner, any more than the fire of genius or the nobility of soul — and cannot therefore satisfy those whose labours were cheered and sorrows comforted, whose interior lives were formed and directed to Grod, whose brightest, happiest hours were blessed, by the wisdom, holiness, and love of Frederick William Faber." • '< All for JesuB," chi^ ii. Digitized by Google