priests true hearts may learn
True faith, true love, and nothing but the truth!'

Before the lark he rose the morrow morn,
And stood by Algar's bed, and spake: 'Arise!
Playtime is past; the great, good work returns;
To Jarrow speed we!' Homeward, day by day,
Thenceforth they sped with foot that lagged no more,
That youth, at first so mournful, joyous now,
That old man oft in thought. Next day, while eve
Descended dim, and clung to Hexham's groves,
He passed its abbey, silent. Wonder-struck
Algar demanded, 'Father, pass you thus
That church where holy John[26] ordained you priest?
Pass you its Bishop, Acca, long your friend?
Yearly he woos your visit; tells you tales
Of Hexham's saintly Wilfred; shows you still
Chalice or cross new-won from distant shores:
Nor these alone:--glancing from such last year
A page he read you of some Pagan bard
With smiles; yet ended with a sigh, and said:
"Where is he now?"' The man of God replied:
'Desire was mine to see mine ancient friend;
For that cause came I hither:--time runs short':--
Then, Algar sighing, thus he added mild,
'Let go that theme; thy mourning time is past:
Thy gladsome time is now.' As on they walked,
Later he spake: 'It may be I was wrong;
Old friends should part in hope.'
On Jarrow's towers,
Bright as that sunrise while that pair went forth
The sunset glittered when, their wanderings past,
Bede and his comrade by the bank of Tyne
Once more approached the gates. Six hundred monks
Flocked forth to meet them. 'They had grieved, I know,'
Thus spake, low-voiced, the venerable man,
'If I had died remote. To spare that grief
Before the time intended I returned.'
Sadly that comrade looked upon his face,
Yet saw there nought of sadness. Silent each
Advanced they till they met that cowled host:
But three weeks later on his bed the boy
Remembered well those words.
Within a cell
To Algar's near that later night a youth
Wrote thus to one far off, his earliest friend:
'O blessed man! was e'er a death so sweet!
He sang that verse, "A dreadful thing it is
To fall into the hands of God, All-Just;"
Yet awe in him seemed swallowed up by love;
And ofttimes with the Prophets and the Psalms
He mixed glad minstr