In Memoriam A.H.H.
thou that after toil and storm
Mayst seem to have reach’d a purer air,
Whose faith has centre everywhere,
cares to fix itself to form,
thou thy sister when she prays,
Her early Heaven, her happy views;
Nor thou with shadow’d hint confuse
life that leads melodious days.
faith thro’ form is pure as thine,
Her hands are quicker unto good:
Oh, sacred be the flesh and blood
which she links a truth divine!
thou, that countest reason ripe
In holding by the law within,
Thou fail not in a world of sin,
ev’n for want of such a type.
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