I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope! and high Humility, High as the heavens above! These are your walks, and you have shewed them me, To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just, Shining no where, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!
He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
If a star were confined into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that locked her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere.
O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee! Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty.
Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass; Or else remove me hence unto that hill Where I shall need no glass.
End of title
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