Pellitur inde sitis, sed et hinc sitis altera surgit; Hinc sitit ille magis, quo sitit inde minus. Felix ô, et mortem poterit qui temnere morbus; Cui vitae ex ipso fonte sititur aqua. _The dropsical man thirsting now for Christ._ Thy dropsy's quench'd, but other thirst now rises, Which craves the more, the less the former thirsts. O happy malady, which death despises: Thirst for the stream which from life's fountain bursts. G. CXLIV. _In coetum coelestem omnium Sanctorum._ Felices animae, quas coelo debita virtus Jam potuit vestris inseruisse polis: Hoc dedit egregii non parcus sanguinis usus, Spesque per obstantes expatiata vias. O ver, ô longae semper seges aurea lucis; Nocte nec alterna dimidiata dies; O quae palma manu ridet, quae fronte corona; O nix virgineae non temeranda togae; Pacis inocciduae vos illic ora videtis; Vos Agni dulcis lumina; vos--quid ago? _To the assembly of all the Saints._ Thrice-happy souls, to whom the prize is given, Whom faith and truth have lifted into heaven: Gift of the heavenly Martyrs' dying breath, Gift of a Faith that burst the gates of Death. O Spring, O golden harvest of glad light; Sweet day, whose beauty never fades in night; The palm blooms in each hand, the garland on each brow, The raiment glitters in its undimm'd snow; The regions of unfading peace ye see, And the meek brightness of the Lamb: how different from me![78] W. ANOTHER VERSION. Thrice-happy, happy souls, to you heaven's debt Is paid; you in your heavenly spheres are set. Whence this to you? ah, noble blood ye shed, And your strong faith the strong world buffeted. O ever-ripening harvest of long light; O Spring, O day not halved with lingering night; O hands with laughing palms, O crownèd brows; O spotless robes, whiter than virgin snows! The beauteous eyes of fadeless Peace ye see-- The eyes of the sweet Lamb; yea--woe is me! A. CXLV. _Christus absenti medetur._ Matt. viii. 13. Vox jam missa suas potuit jam tangere metas? O superi, non hoc ire sed isse fuit. Mirac'lum fuit ipsa salus, bene credere possis, Ipsum, mirac'lum est, quando salutis iter. _Christ heals in absence._ Came, then, His voice with power, Himself unseen? Heavens! this, though not to go, was to have been. The cure miraculous we can credit well, When the mere going was a miracle. CL. CXLVI. _Caecus natus._ Joan. ix. 1, 2. Felix, qui potuit tantae post nubila noctis, O dignum tanta nocte, videre diem: Felix ille oculus, felix utrinque putandus, Quod videt, et primum quod videt ille Deum. _The man born blind._