There is no heartier thing to see
than Christian souls at prayer;
who – humble ones with quiet plea! –
to Jesus oft repair.

There is no symphony or fugue,
nor volume can impugn
that – everlasting Angels’ bug’l –
the deathless Gospel’s tune.

There is no brighter torch, in glow,
than Faith which touches Heav’n,
and – as the fragile smith must blow –
is air and fire, to leav’n.

There is no better blast to smell
than Hope’s salt air, at night,
where – ‘spite the gales that seethe and swell –
are glimpsed the brightest lights.

There is no great repast that lifts
‘bove Christian Charity.
How – in Communion’s mystic gifts –
God strives for parity!

O Lord, there are no more; behold,
these five are all our art,
whose – meekly dwelt in Christ’s vast hold –
full path your Grace does chart.

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