Softly and gently, dearly-ransom’d soul,
In my most loving arms I now enfold thee,

And, o’er the penal waters, as they roll,
I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee.

And carefully I dip thee in the lake,
And thou, without a sob or a resistance,

Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take,
Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance.

Angels, to whom the willing task is given,
Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou liest;

And Masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven,
Shall aid thee at the Throne of the Most Highest.

Farewell, but not for ever! brother dear,
Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow;

Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,
And I will come and wake thee on the morrow.

—  From“The Dream of Gerontius” by Cardinal John Henry Newman

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