I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,

And break the charm,

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,

In perfect rest.

Come, Self-devotion, high and pure,

Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,

Though dearest hopes are faithless found,

And dearest hearts are bursting round.

Come, Resignation, spirit meek,

And let me kiss thy placid cheek,

And read in thy pale eye serene

Their blessing, who by faith can wean

Their hearts from sense, and learn to love

GOD only, and the joys above.

They say [187] , who know the life divine,

And upward gaze with eagle eyne,

That by each golden crown on high,

Rich with celestial jewelry,

Which for our LORD's redeem'd is set,

There hangs a radiant coronet,

All gemm'd with pure and living light,

Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,

Prepared for virgin souls, and them

Who seek the martyr's diadem.

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,

Must win their way through blood and fire.

The writhings of a wounded heart

Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.

Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining,

In Desolation unrepining,

Without a hope on earth to find

A mirror in an answering mind,

Meek souls there are, who little dream

Their daily strife an Angel's theme,

Or that the rod they take so calm

Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.

And there are souls that seem to dwell

Above this earth -- so rich a spell

Floats round their steps, where'er they move,

From hopes fulfill'd and mutual love.

Such, if on high their thoughts are set,

Nor in the stream the source forget,

If prompt to quit the bliss they know,

Following the Lamb where'er He go,

By purest pleasures unbeguiled

To idolize or wife or child;

Such wedded souls our GOD shall own

For faultless virgins round His throne.

[187] See Note