10
SONGS OF EXILE
Angels be gathering Earth's ascending prayer,
That, heavenward bound,
Shall deck the Throne with wreathèd garlands fair
Of wafted sound.
Song of the ages, lo! the fettered soul
Shall break its bond,
And, wrapt in thee, look forth upon the whole
Of Heaven beyond.
Sing on, sweet minstrel, thine immortal song—
My harp for aye,
Vision of hope to men that live and long
And pass away.
