105. Hora Novissima

WHENE'ER goes forth Thy dread command,
    And my last hour is nigh,
Lord, grant me in a Christian land,
    As I was born, to die.

I pray not, Lord, that friends may be,
    Or kindred, standing by,—
Choice blessing! which I leave to Thee
    To grant me or deny.

But let my failing limbs beneath
    My Mother's smile recline;
And prayers sustain my labouring breath
    From out her sacred shrine.

And let the Cross beside my bed
    In its dread Presence rest:
And let the absolving words be said,
    To ease a laden breast. {180}

Thou, Lord, where'er we lie, canst aid;
But He, who taught His own
To live as one, will not upbraid
The dread to die alone.

At Sea
June 22, 1833.

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Newman Reader — Works of John Henry Newman
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