Woe to thee, man! for he was found A recreant in the fight; And lost his heritage of heaven, And fellowship with light. Above him now the angry sky, Around the tempest's din; Who once had angels for his friends, Had but the brutes for kin. O man! a savage kindred they; 650 To flee that monster brood He scaled the seaside cave, and clomb The giants of the wood. With now a fear, and now a hope, With aids which chance supplied, From youth to eld, from sire to son, He lived, and toiled, and died. He dreed[31] his penance age by age; And step by step began Slowly to doff his savage garb, 660 And be again a man. And quickened by the Almighty's breath, And chastened by His rod, And taught by Angel-visitings, At length he sought his God: And learned to call upon His name, And in His faith create A household and a fatherland, A city and a state. Glory to Him who from the mire, 670 In patient length of days, Elaborated into life A people to His praise! SOUL The sound is like the rushing of the wind-- The Summer wind among the lofty pines; Swelling and dying, echoing round about, Now here, now distant, wild and beautiful; While, scattered from the branches it has stirred, Descend ecstatic odours. THIRD CHOIR OF ANGELICALS Praise to the Holiest in the height, 680 And in the depth be praise: In all His words most wonderful; Most sure in all His ways! The Angels, as beseemingly To spirit-kind was given, At once were tried and perfected, And took their seats in heaven. For them no twilight or eclipse; No growth and no decay: 'Twas hopeless, all-ingulfing night, 690 Or beatific day. But to the younger race there rose A hope upon its fall; And slowly, surely, gracefully, The morning dawned on all. And ages, opening out, divide The precious and the base, And from the hard and sullen mass, Mature the heirs of grace. O man! albeit the quickening ray, 700 Lit from his second birth, Makes him at length what once he was, And heaven grows out of earth; Yet still between that earth and heaven-- His journey and his goal-- A double agony awaits His body and his soul. A double debt he has to pay-- The forfeit of his sins, The chill of death is past, and now 710 The penance-fire begins. Glory to Him, who evermore By truth and justice reigns; Who tears the soul from out its case, And burns away its stains! ANGEL