Where hell's torments used to dwell;
E'en the hoary king of hell
Felt sharp torments through him run.
Shout for joy! the prize is won.
THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS.
Strains of mortality
Long have oppressed us;
Pure could they ever be,
If of asbestos.
If mighty spirit strength
Elements ever
Knew how to seize at length,
Angels could never
Linked twofold natures move,
Where single-hearted;
By nought but deathless love
Can they be parted.
THE YOUNGER ANGELS.
See where a spirit-race
Bursts on the sight!
Dimly their forms I trace
Round the far height.
Each cloud becometh clear,
While the bright troops appear
Of the blest boys,
From the Earth's burden free,
In a glad company
Drinking in joys,
Born of the world above,
Spring-time and bliss.
May they forerunners prove
Of a more perfect love,
Linked on to this!
