And outstretched hands, and welcome in their eyes;—
Heart cannot image forth the endless store
We may but guess;
But this one lesser joy I hold my own:
All shall be known in heaven; at last be known
The best and worst of me; the less, the more,
My own shall know—and shall not love me less.
Oh, haunting shadowy dread which underlies
All loving here!
We inly shiver as we whisper low,