So near to Thine own Heaven, for our hearts
Are all unlinked to any erring soul
Whose sins or griefs may cloud our pure serene;
Worship and prayer are as our very breath;
And as this quiet landscape 'neath yon sky,
Whose dark dome throbs with many silver stars,
So, 'neath Thy love, our spirits rest in peace;
Surely our lives are patterned to Thy will!"
A gentle whisper through his spirit thrilled,
"Others there are more pleasing. With the dawn
Seek thou yon city where white dwellings gleam
Amid the verdure, like the snowy leaves
From a fair blossom scattered; thou shalt see
Two there who follow best our Lord's commands."
The next day, 'mid the crowd, the eager saint
Hastened to mark what hermit hollow-eyed,
What holy man of visioned ecstasy,
What preacher honey-lipped and gaunt with thought,
The unseen guide who led him, should select.
Two women came at last, quiet and gentle-voiced,
But humbly clad; and one was young and glad,
Checking her buoyant footsteps to the pace
Of her who followed meekly, whose dark eyes
Had gazed on Death and Sorrow once so close,
So face to face, that henceforth life kept time
To slower pulses, and to chastened thoughts.
"These," said the secret whisper to the saint,
"These are God's well-beloveds; these simple souls
Who speak no ill or think none; but who hold
Are all unlinked to any erring soul
Whose sins or griefs may cloud our pure serene;
Worship and prayer are as our very breath;
And as this quiet landscape 'neath yon sky,
Whose dark dome throbs with many silver stars,
So, 'neath Thy love, our spirits rest in peace;
Surely our lives are patterned to Thy will!"
A gentle whisper through his spirit thrilled,
"Others there are more pleasing. With the dawn
Seek thou yon city where white dwellings gleam
Amid the verdure, like the snowy leaves
From a fair blossom scattered; thou shalt see
Two there who follow best our Lord's commands."
The next day, 'mid the crowd, the eager saint
Hastened to mark what hermit hollow-eyed,
What holy man of visioned ecstasy,
What preacher honey-lipped and gaunt with thought,
The unseen guide who led him, should select.
Two women came at last, quiet and gentle-voiced,
But humbly clad; and one was young and glad,
Checking her buoyant footsteps to the pace
Of her who followed meekly, whose dark eyes
Had gazed on Death and Sorrow once so close,
So face to face, that henceforth life kept time
To slower pulses, and to chastened thoughts.
"These," said the secret whisper to the saint,
"These are God's well-beloveds; these simple souls
Who speak no ill or think none; but who hold
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