500.
“I have seen an end of all Perfection.”
1
O perfection!
mid our dreams,
Thou in spotless robe dost shine;
Round thy brow the moon's pale beams
Form a lambent crown divine,
But thy varied colours gay,
With the morning fly away!
2
Often, men, with aspect meek,
Who some trials nobly bore,
Seem to promise what we seek,
But, the closer we explore,
We perceive, with traces clear,
That perfection dwells not here.
3
We, the hallow'd form who love,
And invoke her oft in vain,
(Spirit of the bless'd above!)
In our hearts to live and reign,
Find, alas! though call we may,
She will not the voice obey!
4
Proving, as we do, too well,
That through us the poison flows;
Charity must in us dwell,
Sweetest plant in heaven that blows!
When we feel our spirits bound,
We must pity slaves around.
5
But, though we the mark survey
Still receding from our eyes;
We, untired, must hold our way,
Pressing forward to the prize:
With a heart that will not bend,
Striving, praying, to the end.
6
They who love perfection here,
Shall, ere long, perfection find;
We shall soon, without a tear,
Frailty's garment leave behind,
And, with ecstacies unknown,
Perfect stand before the throne!
