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Yea! Here thou camest churchward, too!

Hence! a thousand miles away!— How I long to fly afar, Where the sunlight and the balm And the holy hush of calm, And Life's summer-kingdoms are!

[Bursts into tears.]

Jesus, I have cried and pleaded,— From thy bosom still outcast; Thou hast pass'd me by unheeded As a well-worn word is passed; Of salvation's vesture, stain'd With the wine of tears unfeign'd, Let me clasp one fold at last!

[Pale.]

What is this? Then weepest, thou, Hot tears, till thy cheek is steaming,— And the glacier's death-shroud streaming Silently from crag and crest,— And my memory's frozen tides Melt to weeping in my breast,— And the snowy surplice glides Down the Ice-priest's giant sides—

[Trembling.]

Man, why wept'st thou not till now?

[Radiant, clear, and with an air of renewed youth.]

Through the Law an ice-track led,— Then broke summer overhead! Till to-day I strove alone