Where he must quaff the chalice to the dregs,
Without a prayer to take it from his lips.
I’ve heard that hymn before.
Sailor. Why call it strange?
The cup is sweetened though it smack of bitter,
And the most bitter drops become the sweetest.
Gethsemane was nearer heaven with him
Who bathed with tears and blood the sacred soil,
Than fresh blown Paradise appears to have been
With angel visitants. Perchance they are