August 24

What if, when I at last, at the long last,

Shall see thy face, my Lord, my life's delight,

It should not be the face that hath been glassed

In poor imagination's mirror slight!

Will my soul sink, and shall I stand aghast,

Beggared of hope, my heart a conscious blight,

Amazed and lost—death's bitterness come and not passed?