A little longer, and thy Heart, Belovèd, Shall beat for ever with a Love divine; And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal, No creature knows and lives, will then be thine. A little longer yet — and angel voices Shall ring in heavenly chant upon thine ear; Angels and Saints await thee, and God needs thee: Beloved, can we bid thee linger here!

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I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, Which came from the soul of the Organ, And entered into mine. It may be that Death's bright angel Will speak in that chord again, It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen.

Shine, ye stars of heaven, On a world of pain! See old Time destroying All our hoarded gain; All our sweetest flowers, Every stately shrine, All our hard-earned glory, Every dream divine! Shine, ye stare of heaven, On the rolling years! See how Time, consoling, Dries the saddest tears, Bids the darkest storm-clouds Pass in gentle rain, While upspring in glory Flowers and dreams again!