Cold now his hands are, nor unto his Lord
For evils or blessings can render his praises,
Cold, frozen hands that no longer he raises
To give to poor sinners who help had implored;
Cold, cold his hands that the slaves at his board, (285)
All the Christians who toiled for him, cannot repay,
Cold, lifeless hands that his servants to day,
Yea, those who have tended him, shall not reward.
Cold are his feet that now strength may not lend
The poor and the sick in the hostels to see, (290)
For he now, alas ! from the world must flee,
And his cold hands and feet a sure warning send.
Cold, frozen feet that no more will wend
To the house of his God, nor on pilgrim's ways,
Cold, deadly cold: he is ending his days, (295)
And for him the World, brothers, is even at end.
