Blessed Francis talked with the doctor, who admitted that there was nothing further to be done, and gave his opinion that Francis had very little time to live. Then Francis, lying on his bed, spread his hands out to the Lord with very great devotion and reverence, and said with great joy of mind and body, “Welcome, my Sister Death.” Then he asked his brothers to sing to him the song he had made in praise of all things. Before the last verse of the Canticle, he added some verses of Sister Death.
At the time of his illness, Francis was visiting with the old bishop in Assisi. Francis seemed to hear a little silver voice within that confirmed the physician’s words, so he begged his brothers to carry him to the Portiuncula, the house he loved where his work on earth had begun. As he left the city, he paused to bless it, asking Christ to allow Assisi to forever be a beacon and an example to all Christians as a city where Christ is known and glorified.
Keeping faith with Lady Poverty, even unto death, Francis died in a habit loaned to him by one of the brethren. As he lay on his bed, the brothers gathered ’round and he took each one by the hand and said goodbye, blessing them tenderly. When they asked what they could do for him he asked them to sing again and again the song he loved best. All day he lay smiling and listening; when evening came he begged for a few bites of food.
After he had eaten, Francis asked the brothers to read to him from the Bible. As the brothers read, Francis lay gazing upward, still smiling happily. Suddenly he rose up on his bed, stretched his thin hands out and in a voice quivering with joy he crfied, “Welcome, welcome, Sister Death.”
Weeping, the brothers gathered about the bed in the little room. Suddenly one of the brothers saw a soft light hovering over the bed, shining like the sun glistening on water. It lingered awhile, then faded slowly away. At the hour of his passing, the llarks — birds that love the light and dread the shades of twilight — flocked in great numbers onto the roof of the house, even though night was descending, and wheeling about it for a long while, sang even more joyously than customarily, to offer their witness to the saint who so often called them unto the divine praises.
Catholic Book of the Dead, p. 102-103