Originally published at The Catholic Thing
From the grave-bed and the winding sheet
Is a long way for dead feet,
A dark road for dead eyes,
That leads to the gates of Paradise.
When Judas’ soul went through the night,
To knock on Hades gate,
His way was over the whin-pricked moor,
And the noise of the wind was great.
He had no lantern to his feet,
Nor candle in his hand,
Such as God gives to every man
That dies at the time planned.
The angels sit in highest Heaven
And trim the lamps of God,
And all day long make lights for those
That travel death’s dim road.
And when the cross is on thy breast,
The chrism on thine eyes,
Thy angel will bear down thy light
Out of the starry skies
And thou therewith shalt walk by night
Safely to Paradise.
But whoso doth so deadly sin
To cast his life away,
Finding his lamp not lit betimes
Walks through the midnight grey.
For a long night and half a day
Did Judas walk alone
Through the utter dark, for in that place
Is neither sun nor moon.
For a long night and half a day
Did Judas vainly seek
To reach the gates of Paradise,
The salt tears on his cheek.
With that he saw a candle gleam
Borne by a hasty man,
And Judas caught him by the
