老牧师彼得·吉利根夜以继日地疲倦，因为他的一半信徒都躺在床上或躺在绿草皮下。有一次，当他坐在椅子上点头的时候，另一个穷人派人来叫他，他开始悲伤起来。我不得安息、不得快乐、不得平安。因为人死又死。然后他喊道:“上帝饶恕我吧!我的身体没有说话!”他跪下来，靠在椅子上祈祷，然后睡着了;月从田野溜走，星星开始闪烁。它们慢慢地生长成百万棵，树叶在风中摇曳，上帝用阴影覆盖了世界，对人类低语。麻雀叫的时候，飞蛾又来了，老牧师彼得·吉利根笔直地站在地板上。“Mavrone, Mavrone ! The man has died While I slept in the chair.' He roused his horse out of its sleep And rode with little care. He rode now as he never rode, By rocky lane and fen; The sick man's wife opened the door, 'Father! you come again!' 'And is the poor man dead?' he cried 'He died an hour ago.' The old priest Peter Gilligan In grief swayed to and fro. 'When you were gone, he turned and died, As merry as a bird.' The old priest Peter Gilligan He knelt him at that word. 'He Who hath made the night of stars For souls who tire and bleed, Sent one of this great angels down, To help me in my need. 'He Who is wrapped in purple robes, With planets in His care Had pity on the least of things Asleep upon a chair.'