Who That Hath Ever Been

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

There Is A World Above, Where Parting Is Unknown; A Whole Eternity Of Love, Form'd For The Good Alone; And Faith Beholds The Dying Here Translated To That Happier Sphere.

While Rose-buds Scarcely Show'd Their Hue, But Coyly Linger'd On The Thorn.

Prayer Is The Soul's Sincere Desire, Uttered Or Unexpressed, The Motion Of A Hidden Fire That Trembles In The Breast. Prayer Is The Burden Of A Sigh, The Falling Of A Tear, The Upward Glancing Of An Eye When None But God Is Near.

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