Dust unto dust,
To this all must;
The tenant hath resign'd The faded form To waste and worm— Corruption claims her kind.
Through paths unknown Thy soul hath flown,
To seek the realms of woe,
Where fiery pain Shall purge the stain Of actions done below.
In that sad place,
By Mary's grace,
Brief may thy dwelling be Till prayers and alms,
And holy psalms,
Shall set the captive free.
From the novel Ivanhoe.
