Thou--who didst wrap the cloud Of infancy around us, that Thyself Therein with our simplicity awhile Might'st hold, on earth, communion undisturbed, Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep, Or from its death-like void, with punctual care, And touch as gentle as the morning light, Restorest us, daily, to the powers of sense And reason's steadfast rule,--Thou, thou alone Art everlasting, and the blessed Spirits, Which Thou includest, as the Sea her Waves. For adoration Thou endurest; endure For consciousness the motions of Thy will; For apprehension those transcendent truths Of the pure Intellect, that stand as laws; Submission constituting strength and power, Even to Thy Being's infinite majesty! Having before me a copy of Wordsworth's poems, once the possession of an earnest Transcendentalist, I find these, and many lines of similar import, underlined; showing how dear the English poet was to the American reader. There were others who held and enunciated the new faith that came from Germany, the transfigured protestantism of the land of Luther. But these three names will suffice to indicate the wealth of England's contribution to the spiritual life of the New World--Coleridge, Carlyle, Wordsworth--the philosopher, the preacher, the poet; the man of thought, the man of letters, the man of imagination. These embrace all the methods by which the fresh enthusiasm for the soul communicated its power. These three were everywhere read, and everywhere talked of. They occupied prominent places in the public eye. They sank into the shadow only when the faith that glorified them began to decline.