This darkness is the shadow of thy wing;
Beneath it I am almost sacred; here
Can come no evil thing.
O, I seem to stand
Trembling, where foot of mortal ne’er hath been;
Wrapped in the radiance from the sinless land.
Which eye hath never seen.
Visions come and go;
Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng;
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow