In our immortal joy, the enlight'ning kiss
Of sorrow's bitter lips whence comforts thrill?
How shall we sing to her of joys to come,
To her who bears upon her breast the sum
Of death's dread gloom and heaven's undying light?
Lean close, ah, close, about her from above,—
Behold upon the mildness of her love
Enthroned the terrors of His Holy Might!