"Hark! they whisper, angels say,
POPE."Sister spirit! come away!"
Lo! the dream of life is o'er;
Pain the Christian's lot no more!
Kindred spirit! rise with me,
Thine the meed of victory.
Now the angel-songs I hear,
Dying softly on the ear;
Spirit, rise! to thee is given,
The light ethereal wing of heaven.
Now no more shall virtue faint,
Happy spirit of the saint;
Thine the halo of the skies,
Thine the seraph's paradise.