O Thou whose angel is in the holy place
Of human souls dwells there for a space.
Which from that quarter once conveyed,
To be to deep daedal daytime displayed,

Doth be lost, vanish, and leave behind
Mere barren and void of ****** mind,
Which froward urge doth seek in vain
With random desires to furnish again!

O Thou that in our torn rib cage shrine
Dost dwell desolate, obscure, but divine!
I thought to murmur, I resolved to say,
"The beacon is here, witness the way."
The cry was thus, and thus the Word,
And thus I saw, and aye! Thus I heard.