A holy presence hath been here, and, lo,
The place is sanctified! From off thy feet
Put thou thy shoes, my soul! The air is sweet
Even yet with heavenly odors, and I know
If thou dost listen, thou wilt hear the flow
Of most celestial music, and the beat
Of rhythmic pinions. It is then most meet
That thou shouldst watch and wait, lest to and fro
Should pass the heavenly messengers and thou,
Haply, shouldst miss their coming. O my soul,
Count this fair room a temple from whose shrine,
Led by an angel, though we know not how,
Thy friend and lover dropped the cup of dole,
And passed from thy love to the Love Divine!