But mingled here—’tis perfect there:

Here, earthly, troubled, never sure,

Above, ’tis tearless, blest, and pure:

Here, never can we call our own,

Flesh of our flesh, and bone of bone;

Above, two hearts may join in one,

And never is the tie undone,

Unending still, and still begun.

XLVI.

Oh yes! for it was born above,