And the carol of the angel-choir new-flooded all the land
“Good tidings still we bring to all who still have ears to hear;
To all who love His coming—the elect that cannot cease;
And louder rings our anthem, to these watchers, year by year,
Its earnest of the perfect joy—the everlasting peace.
“Art thou, then, of these watchers, if thou canst not read the sign?
The world was at its darkest when the blessed Day-star[120] shone.
Again 'tis blacker to her beam: and thou must needs repine,
And sicken, so near sunrise, for the moonlight that is gone!”