Now in the still
Shadow and glamour of the departed sun
Beauty's immortal ritual is done,
The divine word and will.

Now, lost in lone
Worship and breathless adoration, lies
The loving at the belovèd breast and cries
His prayer up to her throne.

Now thrills the dim
Heart of compassionate and conquering love
With solemn pride, and from her throne above
Listens, and leans to him.

No sound is here.
Mysteriously the many are made one.—
O peace, now the eternal will is done,
And God's own heart how near!