A strange extended orb of Joy, Proceeding from within, Which did on every side, convey Itself, and being nigh of kin To God did every way Dilate itself even in an instant, and Like an indivisible centre stand, At once surrounding all eternity. 'Twas not a sphere, Yet did appear, One infinite. 'Twas somewhat everywhere, And tho' it had a power to see Far more, yet still it shin'd And was a mind Exerted for it saw Infinity. 'Twas not a sphere, but 'twas a might Invisible, and yet gave light. VII O wondrous Self! O sphere of light, O sphere of joy most fair; O act, O power infinite; O subtile and unbounded air! O living orb of sight! Thou which within me art, yet me! Thou eye, And temple of His whole infinity! O what a world art Thou! A world within! All things appear All objects are Alive in Thee! Supersubstantial, rare, Above themselves, and nigh of kin To those pure things we find In His great mind Who made the world! Tho' now eclipsed by sin There they are useful and divine, Exalted there they ought to shine. THE APPREHENSION If this I did not every moment see, And if my thoughts did stray At any time, or idly play, And fix on other objects, yet This Apprehension set In me Was all my whole felicity. FULLNESS