The mirror of the heart is boundless in its rounds.
Here, reason stands aghast, O erring child of sense;
The heart’s with God,—the heart is God,—boundless, immense!65
From all eternity, the figures of all things,
Unnumbered, multitudinous, gleam in heart’s wings.
To all eternity each new-created form
In heart of saint reflected is, most multiform.
His polished heart is cleansed from being’s soiling stain;
And at each moment contemplates fresh beauty’s train.
The outward gilt, the shell, of science they despise;