Angels may speak, and God disclose his hand.
LXX.
“This spot I rashly chose. No Indian train
Glad welcome gave to my enraptured ear,
And that mysterious form comes not again,
Inspiring courage; therefore hence we steer,
Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gain
Until the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!
Our journey stays,—there, there is our abode;
Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!”