Made to show forth Thy wisdom, grace, and might;
Made for Thy praise, whom veiled archangels laud:
Oh, strange and glorious thought, that we may be
A joy to Thee!
Yet the heart turns away
From this grand destiny of bliss, and deems
’Twas made for its poor self, for passing dreams,
Chasing illusions melting day by day,
Till for ourselves we read on this world’s best,
‘This is not rest!’