When the bell, to prayer inviting.

From the low-built belfry rang,

They could hear the birds uniting

With them while the psalms they sang.

From the earth their labour brought them

All they needed—scanty fare.

Life of toil and hardship taught them,

Though at peace, the cross to bear.

This is all their record: never

Can we hope the rest to know!

Names and deeds are lost forever,

In the mist of long ago;

And of all that life angelic

Neither shadow left, nor trace.

Save this tale,—a precious relic,

In its wise and saintly grace!

This, above the darkness lifted

By the truth that in it lay,

On the sea of time has drifted,

And is still our own to-day.

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