His poetry stands among the best in Welsh
literature, deeply tinged as it is with the unfamiliar
idealizings of a mystic soul. Only three
of his hymns are published. The one given below
has already found a place in the hymnody of the
Welsh Church, and has its record among the songs
ordained of the Holy Spirit to give stay and
patience of hope to the righteous in the hour of
sorrow and death.
See, my soul, the land of brightness
Far above the clouds of time;
Where the breeze with balmy lightness
Bloweth through a genial clime;
Moving in its rest serene.
Life has there its crystal fountains,
Peace--whose rivers softly flow,
To refresh its vales and mountains,
To immortalize its glow;
On the sunny shores is breathed.
Never can a mortal arrow
On its nearest province fall:
Death's dominion is but narrow--
There it cometh not at all:
Immortality at home!
Every breeze of winter changes
On the shore to heavenly calm;
O'er its fields no sorrow ranges,
Every sigh becomes a psalm:
Falls the last most bitter tear.
There--there is not one that mourneth,
There--there is not any sad;
There--the gall to honey turneth,
There--the bound is free and glad:
There abiding evermore!
Now my heart is filled with blessing,
And a sacred joy is mine,
In the hope of soon possessing
That inheritance Divine:
Drawing near that promised land!