Father Thomas Roussel David Byles
41 years old, Second-class, Perished
My brother William had requested I officiate at his wedding.
So I left my flock at St. Helen’s in blessed hands,
and set sail for New York.
Monsignor Watson entrusted me with his portable altar stone
to celebrate mass while at sea.
It was Low Sunday,
seven days after our Lord rose from His tomb,
that I and a priest from Lithuania celebrated God’s Word in--
English, French, German, and Hungarian.
We spoke of how just as men needed a lifebelt
to save themselves in an actual shipwreck,
men also needed a spiritual lifeboat
in the shape of a prayer to save their souls.
For no man knows his final hour,
not even I knew I was living mine.
Up until the very end, I absolved them of their sins,
thundered prayers above their cries
as the ocean rose to meet us,
its merciless waves sweeping humanity away.
Soon we humbly climbed aboard a lifeboat
built of hundreds of our prayers
with more than enough room for all souls.
And together we rowed toward glory.
41 years old, Second-class, Perished
My brother William had requested I officiate at his wedding.
So I left my flock at St. Helen’s in blessed hands,
and set sail for New York.
Monsignor Watson entrusted me with his portable altar stone
to celebrate mass while at sea.
It was Low Sunday,
seven days after our Lord rose from His tomb,
that I and a priest from Lithuania celebrated God’s Word in--
English, French, German, and Hungarian.
We spoke of how just as men needed a lifebelt
to save themselves in an actual shipwreck,
men also needed a spiritual lifeboat
in the shape of a prayer to save their souls.
For no man knows his final hour,
not even I knew I was living mine.
Up until the very end, I absolved them of their sins,
thundered prayers above their cries
as the ocean rose to meet us,
its merciless waves sweeping humanity away.
Soon we humbly climbed aboard a lifeboat
built of hundreds of our prayers
with more than enough room for all souls.
And together we rowed toward glory.
