In youth were mine; when, stationed on the top
Of some huge hill expectant, I beheld

The Sun rise up, from distant climes returned
Darkness to chase, and sleep, and bring the day
His bounteous gift! or saw him tow'rd the Deep
Sink - with a retinue of flaming Clouds
Attended; then, my Spirit was entranced
With joy exalted to beatitude;

The measure of my soul was filled with bliss,
And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light,
With pomp, with glory, with magnificence!

Those fervent raptures are for ever flown; And, since their date, my Soul hath undergone Change manifold, for better, or for worse: Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags, Through sinful choice; or dread necessity,

On human Nature, from above, imposed.

"Tis, by comparison, an easy task

Earth to despise; but, to converse with Heaven — This is not easy: — to relinquish all

We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,

And stand in freedom loosened from this world,

I deem not arduous: - but must needs confess

That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the Soul's desires;
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
- Man is of dust: ethereal hopes are his,
Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft,
Want due consistence; like a pillar of smoke,
That with majestic energy from earth

Rises; but, having reached the thinner air,
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen.
From this infirmity of mortal kind
Sorrow proceeds, which else were not; at least,
If Grief be something hallowed and ordained,
If, in proportion, it be just and meet,
Through this, 'tis able to maintain its hold,
In that excess which Conscience disapproves.
For who could sink and settle to that point
Of selfishness; so senseless who could be
As long and perseveringly to mourn
For any Object of his love, removed
From this unstable world, if he could fix
A satisfying view upon that state
Of pure, imperishable blessedness,
Which Reason promises, and Holy Writ
Ensures to all Believers? - Yet mistrust

Is of such incapacity, methinks,

No natural branch; despondency far less..

- And, if there be whose tender frames have drooped Even to the dust; apparently, through weight

Of anguish unrelieved, and lack of power
An agonizing sorrow to transmute,

Infer not hence a hope from those withheld
When wanted most; a confidence impaired
So pitiably, that, having ceased to see
With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love
Of what is lost, and perish through regret.
Oh! no, full oft the innocent Sufferer sees
Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs
To realize the Vision, with intense

And overconstant yearning-there- there lies
The excess, by which the balance is destroyed.
Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,
This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs,
Though inconceivably endowed, too dim
For any passion of the soul that leads
To ecstasy; and, all the crooked paths
Of time and change disdaining, takes it course
Along the line of limitless desires.

I, speaking now from such disorder free,
Nor rapt, nor craving, but in settled peace,

I cannot doubt that They whom you deplore
Are glorified; or, if they sleep, shall wake

From sleep, and dwell with God in endless love.
Hope, below this, consists not with belief
In mercy, carried infinite degrees

Beyond the tenderness of human hearts:
Hope, below this, consists not with belief
In perfect Wisdom, guiding mightiest Power,
That finds no limits but her own pure Will.

Here then we rest: not fearing for our creed The worst that human reasoning can achieve, To unsettle or perplex it: yet with pain Acknowledging, and grievous self-reproach, That, though immovably convinced, we want Zeal, and the virtue to exist by faith

As Soldiers live by courage; as, by strength
Of heart, the Sailor fights with roaring seas.
Alas! the endowment of immortal Power
Is matched unequally with custom, time,
And domineering faculties of sense
In all; in most with superadded foes,
Idle temptations - open vanities,

Ephemeral offspring of the unblushing world;
And, in the private regions of the mind,

Ill-governed passions, ranklings of despite,
Immoderate wishes, pining discontent,

Distress and care.

What then remains? - To seek

Those helps, for his occasions ever near,

Who lacks not will to use them; vows, renewed
On the first motion of a holy thought;
Vigils of contemplation; praise; and prayer,

A Stream, which, from the fountain of the heart,
Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows
Without access of unexpected strength.
But, above all, the victory is most sure
For Him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives
To yield entire submission to the law

Of Conscience; Conscience reverenced and obeyed,
As God's most intimate Presence in the soul,
And his most perfect Image in the world.
Endeavour thus to live; these rules regard;

These helps solicit; and a steadfast seat
Shall then be yours among the happy few
Who dwell on earth, yet breathe empyreal air,
Sons of the morning. For your nobler Part,
Ere disencumbered of her mortal chains,
Doubt shall be quelled and trouble chased away;
With only such degree of sadness left
As may support longings of pure desire;