[1]
[Footnote 1: Among the many beautiful and pious customs of Catholic
countries, none appeals with more tender earnestness to the pitying
heart than that of the _De Profundis_ bell. While the shades of
night are gathering over the earth, a solemn, dirge like tolling
resounds from the lofty church towers. Instantly every knee is bent,
and countless voices, in city and hamlet, from castle and cottage,
repeat, with heartfelt earnestness, the beautiful psalm, "_De
Profundis_," or, "Out of the depths," etc., for the souls of the
faithful departed. Thus is illustrated, in a most touching manner, the
blessed doctrine of the Communion of Saints. Thus does the Church
Militant clasp, each day anew, the holy tie which binds her to the
suffering Church of Purgation.
The compassionate heart of the Christian is stirred to its inmost
depths by the plaintive call of that warning bell; and as, in the holy
hush of nightfall, he obeys its tender appeal, how fully does he
realize that "it is a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the
dead."]
HARRIET M. SKIDMORE.
The day was dead; from purple summits faded
Its last resplendent ray,
And softly slept the wearied earth, o'ershaded
By twilight's dreamy gray;
Then flowed deep sound-waves o'er silence holy
Of nature's calm repose,
As from its lofty dome, outpealing slowly
Through the still gloaming, rose
The deep and dirge-like swell
Of _De Profundis_ bell.
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