LXVIII.
Thy will be done, Father in heaven who art!
The Pastor said, nor longer now denied;
But with a weight of awe upon his heart
Entered the Church, and there the font beside.
With holy water, chrism and salt applied,
Perform'd in all solemnity the rite.
His feeling was that hour with fear allied;
Yeruti's was a sense of pure delight.
And while he knelt his eyes seem'd larger and more bright.
LXIX.
His wish had been obtain'd, and this being done
His soul was to its full desire content.
The day in its accustomed course past on:
The Indian mark'd him ere to rest he went,
How o'er his beads, as he was wont, he bent,
And then, like one who casts all care aside,
Lay down. The old man fear'd no ill event,
When, "Ye are come for me!" Yeruti cried;
"Yes, I am ready now!" and instantly he died.
