THE LIFE OF THE BLESSED.

Region of life and light!

Land of the good whose earthly toils are o'er!

Nor frost nor heat may blight

Thy vernal beauty, fertile shore,

Yielding thy blessed fruits for evermore!

There without crook or sling,

Walks the good shepherd; blossoms white and red

Round his meek temples cling;

And to sweet pastures led,

His own loved flock beneath his eye is fed.

He guides, and near him they

Follow delighted, for he makes them go

Where dwells eternal May,

And heavenly roses blow,

Deathless, and gathered but again to grow.

He leads them to the height

Named of the infinite and long-sought Good,

And fountains of delight;

And where his feet have stood

Springs up, along the way, their tender food.

And when, in the mid skies,

The climbing sun has reached his highest bound,

Reposing as he lies,

With all his flock around,

He witches the still air with numerous sound.

From his sweet lute flow forth

Immortal harmonies, of power to still

All passions born of earth,

And draw the ardent will

Its destiny of goodness to fulfil.

Might but a little part,

A wandering breath of that high melody,

Descend into my heart,

And change it till it be

Transformed and swallowed up, oh love! in thee.

Ah! then my soul should know,

Beloved! where thou liest at noon of day,

And from this place of woe

Released, should take its way

To mingle with thy flock and never stray.