The room was warm, the hour late;
And though the apostle’s eloquence
Entranced his hearers, somnolence
Its battle fought, as nodding pate
And smothered yawn their story told,
Portents of what would soon unfold.
For Eutychus the struggle found
`Gainst sleepiness beyond his strength;
Gave way to drowsiness at length,
And fell three storeys to the ground
From open window-seat, where he
Had sat so long, precariously.
In consternation at his cry
The speaker ceased, his audience led
Swiftly outside, to find him dead.
Bereft of youthful energy,
Eutychus lay motionless,
Focus of sorrow and distress.
Should such occasion end in tears,
And sweet communion shattered be
By this distressing tragedy?
Swift action drove away such fears;
The apostle by his warm embrace
To Eutychus brought life and grace.
Should any ask of Eutychus
How he responded to such deed
And how he afterwards gave heed
Alive by the miraculous
“I died again”, he must reply,
“That I might live, and never die”.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One