All, all Thy mighty presence feel.
C. Wesley.
Yes!—what was earth to him, whose spirit passed
Time’s utmost bounds?—on whose unshrinking sight
Ten thousand shapes of burning glory cast
Their full resplendence?—Majesty and might
Were in his dreams;—for him the veil of light
Shrouding Heaven’s inmost sanctuary and throne,
The curtain of the unutterably bright,
Was raised!—to him, in fearful splendour shown,