Even for thy sake? Yes! fill’d with nobler life
By thy pure love, made holy to the truth,
Lay me upon the altar of thy God,
The first fruits of thy ministry below—
Thy work, thine own!
Her. My love, my sainted love!
Oh! I can almost yield thee unto heaven;
Earth would but sully thee! Thou must depart,
With the rich crown of thy celestial gifts
Untainted by a breath. And yet, alas!