To leave unseen so many a glorious sight,

To leave so many lands unvisited,

To leave so many worthiest books unread,

Unrealized so many visions bright;--

Oh! wretched yet inevitable spite

Of our brief span, that we must yield our breath,

And wrap us in the unfeeling coil of death,

So much remaining of unproved delight!

But hush, my soul, and vain regrets, be still'd;

Find rest in Him who is the complement

Of whatsoe'er transcends our mortal doom,

Of baffled hope and unfulfill'd intent;

In the clear vision and aspéct of Whom

All longings and all hopes shall be fulfill'd.