While those things nigh Damascus so befell, And now the night was almost waned to morn, Its different morning in that different world Dawned to the saints forever summering there In bliss and glory with their glorious Lord. Morning in the celestial Paradise Is not as morning here, new-springing day Crescent the same out of eclipsing night: No night is there, and therefore no vicissitude Of dark and bright to separate the days. Yet condescends our Father to their frame, Still finite though immortal, still in need Of changes to diversify their state, And punctuate into periods the smooth lapse, Else cloying with prolonged beatitude, Of that eternal dateless life serene Lived by the happy souls in Paradise; Our Father condescends and gives them days And days, with difference of each from each, That they may reckon up and date their bliss; No night is there, but without night a morn. Morning in Paradise is perfect light Ineffably more fair become to-day Than yesterday, forever, through more fair Disclosure, dawn on dawn, eternally Made of the glory of the face of Him In whom to His belovéd God still shines. Morn such had risen once more in Paradise, When there a group elect together drawn, Wearing a brow of expectation each, Stood on a flowery hill enringed around To be almost an island with a loop Of river, the river of life, that lucent flowed Mirroring ranks of trees along its banks Ruddy or gold in gleams of fruitage seen Glimpsing against the rich green of their leaves-- Here stood a chosen group who waited now Tidings a messenger to come should bring. These were those all who lately on the earth Had suffered death for Jesus' sake through Saul-- All saving Stephen; he, at point of dawn That morning, had been summoned by his Lord To bear from Him some embassy of grace. The man born blind was there whom Jesus healed To double seeing, seeing of the soul, As of the body, and whom not the threat Of stripes, of stones, and not the blandishment Of gentle words from lips with power of death Could bribe to live at cost of least unfaith Toward his Light-giver and Redeemer Lord-- He, and a little company besides, Women with men, who like him lightly recked Of loss but for a moment then and there Compared with that far more exceeding weight Of glory now, in over-recompense, Forever and forever sealed their own.