The Cross and the Shamrock | Page 5

The offering up of this most beautiful prayer by the children for their
dying parent was not unattended with several breaks and pauses, caused
by the overwhelming grief of the poor orphans. They "gave out" the
short prayers of the litany very well, and without much interruption; but
when they came to the more solemn portion of that beautiful service,
the "recommendation of a departing soul," they could no longer restrain
their tears or suppress their lamentations.
Small blame to the poor children for this manifestation of grief, since
we have known instances of the most hardened hearts being touched,
and the most manly eyes yielding their tribute of tears, at the bare
recital of the most beautiful form of prayer for the "soul departing." We
have ourselves read this service a thousand times, at least, by the death
bedsides of many "departing souls;" and never could we once go
through the form of it entire without yielding to the weakness of nature,
and becoming speechless by the violence of our tears. Let the most
obstinate unbeliever attend but a few times by the bedside of a dying
Catholic, and observe the piety and faith of the priest and people
around the bed of the "soul departing;" and if he be not an atheist or a
blasphemer of God's providence, it is impossible for him not to
perceive the superiority of the Catholic religion to all other forms of
worship that ever existed. But to be present at the death hour of a

Christian is a privilege which Protestants and unbelievers seldom or
never enjoy; their levity and want of devotion, with their impiety and
irreverence, being sufficiently powerful obstacles to their admittance
into such sacred places as the chamber in which the sacred offices of
religion are administered to the "departing soul." It is only the true
believers, and not "those outside," who have the privilege of hearing
the "prayer of faith" that saves the sick man--it is only they who enjoy
occasionally the consolation from the inspiring words of the church to
join their tears, and unite their sighs, sobs, and sorrows with those of
their pastors and fellow-Christians, for the happy passage and merciful
judgment for their departing brother. Such were the tears and sadness
that Paul O'Clery and his little attendants shed around the bed of their
dying mother.
"Paul, my child, why do you act so?" said she, gently chiding him.
"O mother! mother! how can I help it? Stop ye your crying there," said
he, taking courage, and turning to his younger associates. "Silence
Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene. Answer me distinctly, and hold your grief.
It will vex mother." And he continued the prayer from where he left off
with as good grace as he could.
The venerable priest, though inside the door, was unperceived during
this affecting scene; and the heavy tears might be seen stealing down
his furrowed cheeks as he surveyed the group before him.
"O, faith of my Lord, O, best gift of God, how precious thou art! Thou
canst change men into angels, earth into paradise, and convert the
misery and poverty of the poor emigrant into a picture like this, that
heaven itself must delight to gaze on. That's right, my darling son," said
he, "you have finished well; you have done your duty towards your
mother, for which God will bless you, and I bless you in his name. In
nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
"The priest, mother!" whispered Bridget. "I know him by his cloak."
"Glory, honor, and praise be to the Almighty," said the calm and now
rejoicing widow, as she saw the face of the venerable minister of

religion. "The Lord is too good to me, not to let me die in a strange land,
without the consolations of my holy religion," she continued, kissing
the silver crucifix of her beads.
The heart of the good man was too full to give utterance to many words;
and seeing that Death was at hand, that already he was master of all but
the heart,--for the extremes were cold and without feeling,--he ordered
the children down to Mrs. Doherty's, while he heard the short and
humble confession of the poor departing soul, administered the most
holy viaticum, with extreme unction, and read the last benediction of
the church--"In articulo mortis."
He then strengthened her soul with a few words of exhortation, and
having prescribed a few short, ejaculatory prayers, bidding her to have
the name, as well as the image, of Jesus ever in her heart and lips, he
departed, promising to call again as soon as possible, taking the
precaution to leave two dollars in silver and a three dollar bill on the
little stool that stood by her bed. He had now, he