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190
TO * *.
II.

        Then while we mused, a word
Fell on us, spoken once on desert plain,
"Go, gather up these fragments that remain.
And store them carefully, that none be lost;"
And at that Voice methought the ashes stirred
Within the Vale of Vision;[1] sere and dry
Each severed hope, each shred of memory
Did shake and come together. Suddenly
Our life from days when infancy was sweet
Stood up before us, all from head to feet
Transfigured fair.

        "How holy is this place!"
I said, and wist not what I spake; methought
I felt like one upon his journey brought
By ways he knows not of; these pathways dim
Had ever seemed their promised end to cheat,
       Yet had they led to Him
In whom Life's tangled, broken threads complete
Are gathered up, its wasted things made meet
For holier use, its roughness smoothed, its bitter turned to sweet!

  1. Ezek. xxxvii.