These lines, at once both eloquent and heartbreaking, are spoken in the 1968 film "The Shoes of the Fisherman" by the late, superb British actor Leo McKern (as Cardinal Leone). He speaks them to his new pontiff Kiril I, played by Anthony Quinn, a Russian cardinal and former political prisoner, who will have to pay.

Yesterday morning, I started the day learning of the passing of Pope Francis the day after Easter. I never met this Holy Father, but I did cover two visits by St. John Paul II to the Americas: first to Canada in 1984 (Toronto and several other stops) and then Detroit in 1987. 

As I watched the crowds gathering outside the Vatican this morning, I studied the sorrow on their faces intently. In their pain however, I found reassurance.

During the high Mass celebrated by JPII outside of Detroit all those years ago, I stood only 50 feet from the pontiff. I was accompanied by a woman I loved dearly, but whom adrenal cancer took from me years later at age 55. On April 28, I will turn 70 years old. I've survived kidney disease twice and have nurtured a successful, 2019 transplant for five years — until a botched dental procedure last year nearly killed me. But God, and my stubborn faith, had other plans it seems.

Whether being greeted by our late Holy Father Francis, or in my case by John Paul II, the strength of our shared faith continues to burst through. The feeling that I experienced in Nathan Phillips Square in downtown Toronto and at the Silverdome in Pontiac, Michigan, was palpable.

And like author Morris West's fictional Cardinal Leone, I have lived through the papacies of Paul VI, John Paul I, his predecessor JPII, the abbreviated reign of our late Pope Benedict and now Pope Francis.

At the center of West's book is a futuristic scenario that finds a famine devastating Communist China and pushing the globe towards World War III. Pope Kiril I resolves the conflict on the day of his coronation with a gesture that, while fanciful and totally improbable, delivers the reader and film audiences a feel good ending.

And while set a dozen years in the future, West's 1966 novel came partially true with now-St. John Paul II's election from behind the Iron Curtain in 1978.

I own a hardcover copy of the book; it is a thoughtful and instrospective read. But be warned, in the parlance of the 60s, it is also "heavy" and "deep."

The more things change however, they seem to stubbornly remain the same. As Cardinal Leone says to a fellow cleric prior to the book's conclave, "There are not more than half a dozen of us who can give the Church what it needs at this moment."

And it should be noted, as Bishop Jacques Fabre-Jeune, CS, said in his statement on Pope Francis' passing, that we need a man with certain qualities.

"His leadership, compassion and unwavering commitment to peace and justice have inspired millions worldwide and especially the young," Bishop Fabre's statement read in part.

It is with the younger, relatively speaking, cardinals that choosing the next pope and a man of our time now resides.

I realize, only too well, that whomever the forthcoming conclave elects may be the last pope that I myself will see. 

Rest in peace, Pope Francis, and welcome home.