Love Sublime
In loving arms enraptured rest,
Ye whom the joys of life enthral;
A single glance my lot hath blest,
Yet makes me rich beyond you all!
The joys of earth I hold but light,
And, like the martyr, upward gaze;
For o'er me in the distance bright
Its open portals heav'n displays.
Ye whom the joys of life enthral;
A single glance my lot hath blest,
Yet makes me rich beyond you all!
The joys of earth I hold but light,
And, like the martyr, upward gaze;
For o'er me in the distance bright
Its open portals heav'n displays.
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