Warder thou sitt'st, my Master thou shalt see Pacing the diamond terraces of God And bastions jacinth-veined, my great Augustine, When all who wrought the ill have passed to doom, And all who missed the good. Nor walks he sole: By him forever and forever pace My Ethelbert, my Bertha! Who can tell But in the on-sweeping centuries thrice or twice These three may name my name?' He spake and wept. To whom the Apostolic Splendour thus: 'Live, and be strong: for those thou lovest in Christ Not only in far years shall name thy name; This day be sure that name they name in Christ: Else wherefore am I here? Not thou alone, Much more in grief's bewilderment than fear, Hast from the right way swerved. Was I not strong? I, from the first Elect, and named anew? I who received, at first, divine command The Brother-band to strengthen; last to rule? I who to Hebrew and to Gentile both Flung wide the portals of the heavenly realm? Was I not strong? Behold, thou know'st my fall! A second fall was near. At Rome the sword Against me raged. Forth by the Appian Way I fled; and, past the gateway, face to face, Him met, Who up the steep of Calvary, bare For man's behoof the Cross. "Where goest thou, Lord?" I spake; then He: "I go to Rome, once more To die for him who fears for me to die." To Rome returned I; and my end was peace. Return thou too. Thy brethren have not sinned: They fled, consentient with the Will Supreme: Their names are written in the Book of Life: Enough that He Who gives to each his part Hath sealed thy sons and thee to loftier fates; Therefore more sternly tries. Be strong; be glad: For strength from joyance comes.' The Vision passed: The old man, seated on his narrow bed, Rolled thrice his eyes around the vast, dim church, Desiring to retain it. Vain the quest! Yet still within his heart that Radiance lived: The sweetness of that countenance fresh from God Would not be dispossessed, but kindled there Memorial dawn of brightness, more and more Growing to perfect day: inviolate peace, Such peace as heavenly visitants bequeath, O'er-spread his spirit, gradual, like a sea: Forth from the bosom of that peace upsoared Hope, starry-crowned, and winged, that liberates oft Faith, unextinct, though bound by Powers accursed That o'er her plant the foot, and hold the chain-- Terror and Sloth. To noble spirits set free Delight means gratitude. Thus Laurence joyed: But soon, remembering that unworthy past, Remorse succeeded, sorrow born of love, Consoled by love alone. 'Ah! slave,' he cried, That, serving such a God, could'st dream of flight: How many a babe, too weak to lift his head, Is strong enough to die!' While thus he mused The day-dawn reaching to his pallet showed