NOT of the earth that music! all things fade;

Vanish the pictured walls! and, one by one,

The starry candles silently expire!

And now, O Jesus! round that silent cross

A moment's pause, a hush as of the grave.

Now rises slow a silver mist of sound,

And all the heavens break out in drops of grief;

A rain of sobbing sweetness, swelling, dying,

Voice into voice inweaving with sweet throbs,

And fluttering pulses of impassioned moan,--

Veiled voices, in whose wailing there is awe.

And mysteries of love and agony,

A yearning anguish of celestial souls,

A shiver as of wings trembling the air,

As if God's shining doves, his spotless birds,

Wailed with a nightingale's heart-break of grief,

In this their starless night, when for our sins

Their sun, their life, their love, hangs darkly there,

Like a slain lamb, bleeding his life away!