Look in, O Mystic, on thy lease,
Thou tenant soul in God's demesne;
Forego the show of eyes that fail,
And walk the world that cannot pale,
Thine by a sealed and termless lien
Within His met eternities.
Yet look thou out from thy still hour
With eyes that know and bear His fire;
Till kindling on thy wonder's verge
The transient days immortal merge
In Him fulfilled as worlds expire
In nestled love, a song, a flower.