By:
Edited By Heymen Wreford
Lines on the Death of Pasteur Lecoat
He is not here—and yet the summer fields
Are beautiful—the fields he loved so well;
The joy of harvest its full glory yields,
But death has reaped his harvest in Tremel.
No longer on each well-frequented way
Will he be seen—Oh God the dread farewell—
My friend of many years has passed away,
And left his shadow on his loved Tremel.
He lived for God among the race he loved,
And gave to one and all “Ar Bibl Santel.”
He lit in many a home the lamp of God,
And Rome has seen His beacons in Tremel.
And he, being dead, shall speak with living voice,
Till hands of doom shall sound earth’s funeral knell;
And men unborn shall in his light rejoice,
The light of God that glorified Tremel.
Oh, man of God! the crown to thee is given;
No more on earth thy living lips shall tell
The Saviour’s love; but to the throne in heaven
Thy sheaves will come, God’s harvest from Tremel.
H. W.
Trèmel,
Côtes-du-Nord, France
June 28th, 1914.