Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/246

To meet that only eye;—so, faint yet still
Pursuing, oft ye look unto the hill
From thence expecting aid, and not in vain.
Now have ye reached the Mount of God! no stain
Lies on your robes, and all your faces shine
As shone they never here, while yet in frail
Coarse vessels all your heaven-won treasure lay.
While oft the light within would pale and pine
Because the lamp that bore it was of clay—
Now, far behind the shrouding veil, your way
Leads on from grace to grace, and yet you say

"Here it is good to be:" of this your state
 We know not now, but this still doth appear;
Though none have left the chambers where ye wait
 To tell us if their light be dark or clear,
And he who looked upon you there, the Seer
Beloved, hath spoken little, if ye wake—
Or sleeping, where you take your solemn rest—
Yet hath a voice from Heaven proclaimed you surely blest!

        And if ye wake or sleep.
Or wrapt yet conscious in a Calm between
That stealeth not on Earth, ye lie serene,
Doth matter little—solemn, sweet and deep
Must be your rest with Him whose eyelids keep
Their watch above, for He can bless in sleep
His own beloved ones;