ANOTHER VERSION.
Thrice-happy, happy souls, to you heaven's debt
Is paid; you in your heavenly spheres are set.
Whence this to you? ah, noble blood ye shed,
And your strong faith the strong world buffeted.
O ever-ripening harvest of long light;
O Spring, O day not halved with lingering night;
O hands with laughing palms, O crownèd brows;
O spotless robes, whiter than virgin snows!
The beauteous eyes of fadeless Peace ye see—
The eyes of the sweet Lamb; yea—woe is me! A.
CXLV.
Christus absenti medetur. Matt. viii. 13.
Vox jam missa suas potuit jam tangere metas?
O superi, non hoc ire sed isse fuit.
Mirac'lum fuit ipsa salus, bene credere possis,
Ipsum, mirac'lum est, quando salutis iter.
Christ heals in absence.
Came, then, His voice with power, Himself unseen?
Heavens! this, though not to go, was to have been.
The cure miraculous we can credit well,
When the mere going was a miracle. Cl.
CXLVI.
Caecus natus. Joan. ix. 1, 2.