“It was the eve of Ascension Day 735 that Bede in his last hours was translating the Gospel of St John, and some scribes were writing from his dictation. They reached the words ‘What are these among so many’ when Bede felt his end approaching. ‘Write quickly,’ he said, ‘I cannot tell how soon my Master may call me hence.’ All night he lay awake in thanksgiving, and when the festival dawned he repeated his request that they should accelerate their work. ‘Master, there remains one sentence.’ ‘Write quickly,’ said Bede. ‘It is finished, master,’ they soon replied. ‘Aye, it is finished,’ he echoed. ‘Now lift me up and place me opposite my holy place where I have been accustomed to pray.’ He was placed upon the floor of his cell, bade farewell to his companions, to whom he had previously given mementoes of his affection, and, having sung the doxology, peacefully breathed his last.” “How beautiful your presence, how benign, Servants of God! who not a thought will share With the vain world; who, outwardly as bare As winter trees, yield no fallacious sign That the firm soul is clothed with fruit divine! Such priest, when service worthy of his care Has called him forth to breath the common air, Might seem a saintly image from its shrine Descended--happy are the eyes that meet The apparition, evil thoughts are stayed At his approach, and low-backed necks entreat A benediction from his voice or hand; Whence grace, through which the heart can understand; And vows, that bind the will in silence made.” _Primitive Saxon Clergy_ (WORDSWORTH). Standing on a green hill near the river Slake, the grey walls of Jarrow Abbey (now the Church of St Paul) contrast markedly with the general sense of everyday work conveyed by the active life of Shields, not far distant. Past and present, ancient and modern, are brought into close proximity, suggesting to one that were it possible to infuse some of the contemplative and quiescent frame of mind of Bede and his scholars into the toilers of this progressive 20th century, less might be heard of brain fag and other attendant evils of the high pressure of modern life. Of the Abbey church, the tower and chancel alone remain and are now used as the parish church. In the vestry is a chair said to have belonged to the Venerable Bede. Many visitors (as visitors will) have chipped off pieces of the old oak, the tradition being that a splinter, if placed under a damsel’s pillow, would invoke pleasant dreams of the ever prospective husband. Of the domestic part of the establishment, which was situated on the south side of the church, there still stand some walls and a gable end which may possibly have formed part of the refectory. FINCHALE (_Benedictine_)