Hark! I hear, I hear them calling,
"Here—up here!"
Thanks, great Heaven, I am stronger,
Slave to earthly last no longer,
I am free.
Oh, this pure and heavenly whiteness,
Marking thee!
Death shall us no more dissever;
Humbly thank great God together,
Thou and me.
Peace, peace! he is not dead; he doth not sleep—
He hath awakened from the dream of life—
"Tis we who, lost in stormy vigils, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings.—
