"Those forty days in which He showed Himself After such fashion to His chosen few Nigh ended, we withdrew to Galilee Where He appointed He would meet His own-- More than five hundred we were mustered there Upon a mountain top that well we knew. Here He was glorious in majesty, The Son of God become from Son of Man; Hushed to obedient awe, we heard Him speak. He said: 'Lo, all authority is given To Me, whether in heaven or on the earth. Forth, therefore, ye, among all nations go, Making disciples and baptizing them Into the name, the one name, of the Father, And of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; Teaching them to observe all things that I Commanded you, neglecting naught of all: Behold, I am with you ever to the end.' "Thence to Jerusalem and Bethany. Here from a chosen spot on Olivet Jesus, His hands uplifted as He blessed us, Rose heavenward, but He blessed us still in rising, Until a cloud enwrapt Him from our sight." The upward look of Mary saying this, Her fixéd, eager, upward-yearning look, Failed, and her face grew white as if the blood Were shamed to stain that heavenly purity. All saw the change she suffered, and were awed. Mary's voice faltered, but she brokenly Went on in utterance such as if she spoke Out of another world just reached from this: "That cloud--I seem to see it now again-- Or something swims between to dim my sight. Those angels said that He would yet return So as we saw Him then ascend to heaven-- Is He now come? I hear as if a voice, His, His, the same that in the garden spake To me calling my name, 'Mary!' It says Now, 'Hither, Mary!' Yea, Lord Jesus, I Know Thee, and come. At last! At last! Farewell!" Mary such words uttered with failing breath, Her eyes withdrawn from vision of things here. Her body--which in gentle rest reclined On her kinswoman Ruth supporting her When her strength failed--she left, winging her way Hence, as the lark soars from his groundling nest Into the morning sky to meet the sun. With a communicated quietude Of spirit--which into their gesture passed Making it seem habitual, no surprise, Scarce sorrow, hinted, perturbation none, But reverence and love ineffable-- Not speaking, Ruth and Rachel decently Composed the body to a look of rest In sleep on the sweet earth, the stainless sky Bending in benediction over her And the bright sun just risen touching the face To an auroral beauty with his beams.