With balm and healing for the mind of man.
Such life it is that doth thy life endear,
And not thy face serene, its envelope;
In shadows that decline and disappear,
Immortal Love cannot repose his hope.
’Tis true of all things marvellous and fair,
Where Nature taketh forethought, and the sky
Is bountiful in their nativity;
God’s grace doth nowhere else so far prevail
As where it shineth through a body’s veil;