Yet glorious end! Already then afar Will kindle the dark earth with many a ray, Never to be extinguished, of heaven's light Caught from the torch that this world-wandering man, This flying angel fledged with wingéd feet Tireless, this heart of love unquenchable, Has borne abroad, when, now the good fight fought, Finished his course, the faith full kept, he, last, With aged eagle eyes strained forward, sees The crown of righteousness laid up for him Which Christ, the Righteous Judge, will give him then, Give him in that forever-imminent Day-- Nor him alone, as his vicarious soul Swells to remember, but all them likewise Who shall have loved the appearing of the Lord. The transit of a thought athwart the brain-- What computation for such speed in flight! What reckoning of the number of the thoughts That in an individual instant will Chase one another through a human mind In never-sundered continuity Of change! The measureless diameters Of being that a mortal man may cross From one pulse to another of the blood! How, in the twinkling of an eye, become The spirit its own polar opposite! Between his Lord's reply, "I Jesus am," And his own further question instant asked, "Lord Jesus, what wilt Thou have me to do?" That prostrate proud young Hebrew penitent The utmost stretch of longitude traversed That can divide two different selves in man-- He from rebellious to obedient passed, Blasphemer was adoring worshipper, The Pharisee was Christian, Saul was Paul. At witness of the wondrous change, the joy, The grateful joy, within those friendly minds Above who saw it, borne to ecstasy Of gladness, was triumphal, and broke forth In singing such as heard in Paradise: "Glory to God, and to our Saviour Lord, For one more captive to the heavenly thrall; For one more human soul to heaven reclaimed From hell, and star set in Christ's diadem! For one more witness, an apostle new, Like angel flying through mid-heaven, to fly And wing the Gospel wide throughout the world! Thanks to thee, Christ, for that his name is SAUL!" Heard was this quiring song afar, and heaven Her other joy suspended at the sound: And every echoing hill of Paradise, Each grove, each grotto, every fountain-side, With every bank of river, every glen, And every bowery, flowery wide champaign Where angels bask in bliss, took up the strain And rang it swelling to the highest heaven; While harpers harped it to their harps, and palms Were rhythmic waved in music to the eye, And the trees clapped their hands, and God was pleased.