Joys Too Exquisite To Last, And Yet

Yet Nightly Pitch My Moving Tent, A Day's March Nearer Home.

Who That Hath Ever Been Could Bear To Be No More? Yet Who Would Tread Again The Scene He Trod Through Life Before?

Hymns Should Have Unity, Graduation And Mutual Dependence In The Thoughts, A Conscious Progress, A Sense Of Completeness And Be Easily Understood.

There Is A Calm For Those Who Weep, A Rest For Weary Pilgrims Found, They Softly Lie And Sweetly Sleep Low In The Ground.

Gashed With Honourable Scars,low In Glory's Lap They Lie;though They Fell, They Fell Like Stars,streaming Splendour Through The Sky.