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I saw the Evangelist of God ascend
The holy place. He stood in the beauty
Of meekness.--He spake, and on my heart
Fell accents glowing with the prophet's fire.
I heard thee, mighty one! and was afraid,
Yea, trembling, listened; for methought no voice
Of mortal mould could thrill my bosom thus.
O, sweet as angel's music were the tones
That breathed their gilead on the wounded heart;
Strengthened the weary,--bade the broken come
To Siloa's fountain and in faith be whole.
I wept o'er blighted hopes--but thou didst draw,
A willing captive, my admiring soul
With thee, to brighter regions, where the dream
Of glad fruition lives, nor is unreal.
I feared Death--but thou didst deck the foe
In lovely garb; with softest beauty clad,
I saw him beckoning to the narrow house
Of rest, where spicy odours balm the air,
And resurrection's halo crowns the dead.
God called thee, favoured one! Thy diadem
Is wreathed of gentleness, and thick bestrown
With pearls of nature's forming--they are tears,
Yea, tears of rapture, holy, and untold.