_Lucifer_--What men call accident is God's own part. He lets ye work your will--it is his own: But that ye mean not, know not, do not, he doth. _Festus_--What is life worth without a heart to feel The great and lovely harmonies which time And nature change responsive, all writ out By preconcertive hand which swells the strain To divine fulness; feel the poetry, The soothing rhythm of life's fore-ordered lay; The sacredness of things?--for all things are Sacred so far,--the worst of them, as seen By the eye of God, they in the aspect bide Of holiness: nor shall outlaw sin be slain, Though rebel banned, within the sceptre's length; But privileged even for service. Oh! to stand Soul-raptured, on some lofty mountain-thought, And feel the spirit expand into a view Millennial, life-exalting, of a day When earth shall have all leisure for high ends Of social culture; ends a liberal law And common peace of nations, blent with charge Divine, shall win for man, were joy indeed: Nor greatly less, to know what might be now, Worked will for good with power, for one brief hour. But look at these, these individual souls: How sadly men show out of joint with man! There are millions never think a noble thought; But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals They rush upon perdition: that's the race. What charm is in this world-scene to such minds? Blinded by dust? What can they do in heaven, A state of spiritual means and ends? Thus must I doubt--perpetually doubt.