XXXI.

“But all from depths of mystery grows,
Which hide from us the root of things;
And good beyond what Science knows
To man his faith's high Reason brings.

XXXII.

“To thee, to all, my sinking voice,
Beloved! would fain once more proclaim,
In Christ alone may those rejoice,
Deceived by every other name.

XXXIII.

“In all but Him our sins have been,
And wanderings dark of doubtful mind;
In Him alone on earth is seen
God's perfect Will for all mankind.

XXXIV.

“The shadows round me close and press,
But still that radiant orb I see,
And more I seem its light to bless
Than aught near worlds could give to me.

XXXV.

“As light and warmth to noontide hours,
To sweetest voices tuneful songs,
And as to summer fields the flowers,
So heaven to heavenly souls belongs.”

XXXVI.

His upward look drew light and peace
From some unclouded source above;
The tears of Jane had learnt to cease,
And she was hushed in fearless love.

XXXVII.

But, sighing slow, he turned from heaven
To gaze at her, his lamp on earth,
With thoughts that need not be forgiven,
For they, too, claimed a sinless birth.

XXXVIII.

“My more than dear, my wife”—he said—
“I leave a toilsome lot to thee;
To bear, a widow, though unwed,
The lonely memory of me.

XXXIX.

“So young, so beautiful as thou,
To feel thou art on earth alone,
That none can be, as I am now,
Thy first whole hope, and all thy own;

XL.

“With few or none beside the heart
To cheer, uphold, and comprehend;
With thoughts at which the crowd would start,
And grief which they would vainly tend.