The Lost Bells. 87

"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried, "I hear their tones at last;" A sudden rapture filled his heart, And all his cares were past.

Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm, His journeying was o'er, The weary, restless wanderer Had reached the restful shore.

It may be that he met again, Enfolded in the air, The dear old chimes beside the gates Where all is bright and fair;

That he who crossed and bowed his head When Angelus was sung In clearer light touched golden harps By angel fingers strung.