Lit up the beauty of each angel's face
At that new utterance, smiles of joy that grew
More joyous yet, as ever and anon
Was heard the simple burden of the hymn,
"Praise God! praise God!"
And when the seraph's song
Had reached its close, and o'er the golden lyre
Silence hung brooding,—when the eternal courts
Rang with the echoes of his chant sublime,
Still through the abysmal space that wandering voice