Where the body, there the eagles thick their broad-wing'd pinions thrust,
Serried throngs of Angels mingle with the Spirits of the Just;
Banquet on one Heavenly Manna Citizens of either State,
Ever fill'd, and ever longing, satisfied, insatiate;
Filling hath for them no fulness, hungring still they know no pain,
Part their holy lips for feasting, feast and part them yet again.
Heavenly strains melodious voices echo each to other's notes,
With the pent-up roar of organs, swelling in a thousand throats;
How they chant the Song of Moses, now the Lamb is all their praise,—
"God, Thy works how great, how wondrons, King of Saints, how just Thy ways!"
Happy while they see the Glory, yet beneath the Throne sublime
Watch the sun and planets whirling earthward on the grooves of time.
Only might in them that conquer, only blessing of the blest,
Girt no more for battle lead me, Jesu, to Thy City's rest!
Make me sharer of Thy bounty with those Heavenly legions bright;
Lend me strength or e'er I perish in this never-ending fight;
Finish now my course with gladness, loose the helmet from my brow;
All things to Thyself subduing, Saviour, let me win Thee now! Amen.
