Ah! traitress I, to die the first!
Ah! hapless thou, to mourn alone!
Sudden that truth upon me burst,
Confessed so oft; till then unknown.
There lives Who loves him!—loves and loved
Better a million-fold than I!
That Love with countenance unremoved
Looked on him from eternity.
That Love, all Wisdom and all Power,
Though I were dust, would guard him still,