en her
to come to Portiuncula; we can imagine the dismay of the narrators at
this far from monastic invitation.

But the good lady had anticipated his appeal: at the moment when the
messenger with the letter was about to leave for Rome, she arrived at
Portiuncula and remained there until the last sigh of the Saint.[18]
For one moment she thought of sending away her suite; the invalid was so
calm and joyful that she could not believe him dying, but he himself
advised her to keep her people with her. This time he felt with no
possible doubt that his captivity was about to be ended.

He was ready, he had finished his work.

Did he think then of the day when, cursed by his father, he had
renounced all earthly goods and cried to God with an ineffable
confidence, "Our Father who art in heaven!" We cannot say; but he
desired to finish his life by a symbolic act which very closely recalls
the scene in the bishop's palace.

He caused himself to be stripped of his clothing and laid upon the
ground, for he wished to die in the arms of his Lady Poverty. With one
glance he embraced the twenty years that had glided by since their
union: "I have done my duty," he said to the Brothers, "may the Christ
now teach you yours!"[19]

This was Thursday, October 1.[20]

They laid him back upon his bed, and, conforming to his wishes, they
again sang to him the Canticle of the Sun.

At times he added his voice to those of his Brothers,[21] and came back
with preference to Psalm 142, _Voce mea ad Dominum clamavi_.[22]

With my voice I cry unto the Lord,
With my voice I implore the Lord,
I pour out my complaint before him,
I tell him all my distress.
When my spirit is cast down within me,
Thou knowest my path.
Upon the way where I walk
They have laid a snare for me,
Cast thine eyes to the right and look!
No one recognizes me;
All refuge is lost for me,
No one takes thought for my soul.
Lord, unto thee I cry;
I say: Thou art my refuge,
My portion in the land of the living.
Be attentive to my cries!
For I am very unhappy.
Deliver me from those who pursue me!
For they are stronger than I.
Bring my soul out of its prison
That I may praise thy name.
The righteous shall compass me about
When thou hast done good unto me!

The visits of death are always solemn, but the end of the just is the
most moving _sursum corda_ that we can hear on earth. The hours flowed
by and the Brothers would