My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope! and high Humility!
High as the heavens above! 15
These are your walks, and you have showed them me
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous death; the jewel of the just,
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do, lie beyond thy dust, 20
Could man outlook that mark!