Whose hearts leap upward through the cypress trees
To the clear moon: nor yet the spheric laws
Self-chanted,—nor the angels' sweet All hails,
Met in the smile of God. Nay, none of these.
Speak THOU, availing Christ! and fill this pause.
—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
TEARS.
Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well—