Have rested from earth’s toil: Have laid aside the burden Of poor mortality, And entered on the Sabbath Of glad eternity. While thus I dream, the Organ Is pealing forth its wave, The Holy Monks are marching All slowly down the Nave. “Dear Angel! may I follow Them, down the Cloister still, And join their recreation, On yonder mossy hill?” The Angel smiled permission; I willed myself along, Until unseen, I joined me To th’ happy, Virgin throng. Here, there were boys most lovely; And there, old hoary men; And youths, and those of mid-age; Here joyous boys again. I followed one young novice, Who held an old man’s hand; I listened,—they were speaking, Of some dear, distant Land. The boy I saw was pointing Away, right out to sea, Where moonlight made a pathway, Of silver radiancy. The silver way seemed joining Together sea and sky, The stars seemed trembling o’er it, Like lightlets from on high. “Dear Father Cadfan, look now,” —Said the bright and lovely boy,— “I’m sure that silver roadway Leads to our Home of Joy.” “No, no, my Son, t’is only An emblem of the way, Across time’s changing storm-tide, To regions of the day.” And then the old man turning, Towards Cambria’s rock bound shore, Pointed the boy to Barmouth, {11} But then called Abermawr. “My son,” said he, “’tis yonder, Long years ago I tried To bring poor souls to Jesus, Who once for sinners died. But there the Druids held them In error’s iron chain, {12a} They would not hear of Jesus, And drove me thence again. Yet though at Abermawr I failed ’Mid Towyn’s marshes drear, {12b} The people bowed before the Cross, And sought the Saviour dear. My son, one day thou must away, If Father Abbot wills, And build a Shrine to Christ Divine, ’Mid Barmouth’s rocky hills. The idols which they worship Thou boldly must destroy, Promise old Father Cadfan this, My brave, my darling boy!” The boy’s bright eyes were flashing, He grasped the old man’s hand,— “Father, I will preach Jesus Upon that darkened strand. Only, my father, pray for me, When thou hast past the sea, And reignest with our Jesus, In the ‘kingdom of the free.’” St. Cadfan smiled, and blessed the lad, His heart’s desire seemed gained, From idol worship for the Lord Should Abermawr be claimed. The Compline Bell tolled solemnly From out St. Mary’s Tower, Calling the Monks to worship At day’s last hallowed hour. Dubritius, {14} the novice boy, Stood meekly in his stall, The fathers and the novices Chanted the Office all. But Father Cadfan was not there, Calmly his body lay; Upon the mound by Bardsey Sound, His spirit passed away.