4.
“For the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the
earthly tabernacle weigheth down the mind.”
The human soul is yearning after love,
And finding not still feels itself alone,
Turning from side to side with ceaseless moan;
Or if she find what may affection move,
The object of her love turns to reprove,
By misplaced trust, or stern disunion,
Or disappointment; or if raised to One,
Who is the Everlasting rest above
Of Spirits divine, though for a while unseen;
The more her inward poverty she knows,
And finds unrest in seeking for repose:
Nor can sustain her to those heights serene
Against the attractions of our lower birth,
Whose gravitation draws her back to earth.
