_Ador._ Rather, blend Both musics into one. The sanctities and sanctified above Shall each to each, with lifted looks serene, Their shining faces lean, And mix the adoring breath And breathe the full thanksgiving. _Zerah._ But the love-- The love, mine Ador! _Ador._ Do we love not? _Zerah._ Yea, But not as man shall! not with life for death, New-throbbing through the startled being; not With strange astonished smiles, that ever may Gush passionate like tears and fill their place: Nor yet with speechless memories of what Earth's winters were, enverduring the green Of every heavenly palm Whose windless, shadeless calm Moves only at the breath of the Unseen. Oh, not with this blood on us--and this face,-- Still, haply, pale with sorrow that it bore In our behalf, and tender evermore With nature all our own, upon us gazing-- Nor yet with these forgiving hands upraising Their unreproachful wounds, alone to bless! Alas, Creator! shall we love thee less Than mortals shall? _Ador._ Amen! so let it be. We love in our proportion, to the bound Thine infinite our finite set around, And that is finitely,--thou, infinite And worthy infinite love! And our delight Is, watching the dear love poured out to thee From ever fuller chalice. Blessed they, Who love thee more than we do: blessed we, Viewing that love which shall exceed even this, And winning in the sight a double bliss For all so lost in love's supremacy. The bliss is better. Only on the sad Cold earth there are who say It seemeth better to be great than glad. The bliss is better. Love him more, O man, Than sinless seraphs can! _Zerah._ Yea, love him more! _Voices of the Angelic Multitude._ Yea, more! _Ador._ The loving word Is caught by those from whom we stand apart. For silence hath no deepness in her heart Where love's low name low breathed would not be heard By angels, clear as thunder. _Angelic Voices._ Love him more!