Where “moth nor rust,” nor chance nor change may come,
Forever wandering and forever home;
Joys brightening in our footsteps as we pass,
And Hope before us with his magic glass—
Each sound and song, each object, every thought,
With some new pleasure, some fresh feeling fraught—
Where one pure Spirit animates the whole,
One thrill excites the universal soul!
’Tis these, and joys like these, the Future brings,
When ’midst her depths we soar on Virtue’s wings—