"The Lord will incline her heart to go with me. Dear uncle, it does not beseem a child to reflect on its elders, yet I cannot but see that grandmamma loves this world and me too well for her soul's good. This journey will be for her eternal repose." "Well, well, dear one, I cannot now advise. Take advice of your confessor, and the blessed Lord and his holy Mother be with you! But come now, I would soothe myself to sleep; for I have need of good rest to-night. Let us sing together our dear master's hymn of the Cross." And the monk and the maiden sang together:-- "Iesù, sommo conforto, Tu sei tutto il mio amore E 'l mio beato porto, E santo Redentore. O gran bontà, Dolce pietà, Felice quel che teco unito sta! "Deh, quante volte offeso T' ha l' alma e 'l cor meschino, E tu sei in croce steso Per salvar me, tapino! "Iesù, fuss' io confitto Sopra quel duro ligno, Dove ti vedo afflitto, Iesù, Signor benigno! "O croce, fammi loco, E le mie membra prendi, Che del tuo dolce foco Il cor e l' alma accendi! "Infiamma il mio cor tanto Dell' amor tuo divino, Ch' io arda tutto quanto, Che paia un serafino! "La croce e 'l Crocifisso Sia nel mio cor scolpito, Ed io sia sempre affisso In gloria ov' egli è ito!"[D] [Footnote D: Jesus, best comfort of my soul, Be thou my only love, My sacred saviour from my sins, My door to heaven above! O lofty goodness, love divine, Blest is the soul made one with thine! Alas, how oft this sordid heart Hath wounded thy pure eye! Yet for this heart upon the cross Thou gav'st thyself to die! Ah, would I were extended there, Upon that cold, hard tree, Where I have seen thee, gracious Lord, Breathe out thy life for me! Cross of my Lord, give room! give room! To thee my flesh be given! Cleansed in thy fires of love and pain, My soul rise pure to heaven! Burn in my heart, celestial flame, With memories of him, Till, from earth's dross refined, I rise To join the seraphim! Ah, vanish each unworthy trace Of earthly care or pride, Leave only, graven on my heart, The Cross, the Crucified! ] As the monk sang, his soul seemed to fuse itself into the sentiment with that natural grace peculiar to his nation. He walked up and down the little garden, apparently forgetful of Agnes or of any earthly presence, and in the last verses stretched his hands towards heaven with streaming tears and a fervor of utterance indescribable.