Poetry > Course of time

THE COURSE OF TIME.
That nought but angel’s foot, or saint’s, elect
Of God, may venture there to walk. Here oft
The sons of bliss take morn or evening pastime,
Delighted to behold ten thousand worlds
Around their suns revolving in the vast
External space, or listen the harmonies
That each to other in its motion sings;
And hence, in middle heaven remote, is seen
The mount of God in awful glory bright.
Within, no orb create of moon, or star,
Or sun gives light; for God’s own countenance,
Beaming eternally, gives light to all.
But farther than these sacred hills, His will
Forbids its flow, too bright for eyes beyond.
This is the last ascent of virtue; here
All trial ends, and hope; here perfect joy,
With perfect righteousness, which to these heights
Alone can rise, begins, above all fall.
And now, on wing of holy ardour strong,
Hither ascends the stranger, borne upright—
For stranger he did seem,- with curious eye
Of nice inspection round surveying all—
And at the feet alights of those that stood
His coming, who the hand of welcome gave,
And the embrace sincere of holy love;
And thus, with comely greeting kind, began
Hail, brother! hail, thou son of happiness!
Thou son beloved of God! welcome to heaven,