Chapter X

Now droops his weary head
Exhausted on his bed.
His dying prayer has ceased;
Convulsive heaves his breast;
We deem him sunk to rest,
Breathing his _last_ and _best_;
When suddenly his eyes
He opens on the skies,
And startling us with surprise,
He waves his hand and cries:
“I see, I see the place!
I see my Savior’s face!
Look, children look! your eyes
Raise, and look toward the skies!
Bright beams of Glory
Come hovering o’er me!
See! see! they’re opening wide,
The flaming gates of Paradise!
Bright angels downward glide,
And standing near my side,
They smile and bid me come,
To my eternal home.”