Say, hast thou track'd a traveller's round,

Nor visions met thee there,

Thou couldst but marvel to have found

This blighted world so fair?

And feel an awe within thee rise,

That sinful man should see

Glories far worthier Seraph's eyes

Than to be shared by thee

Store them in heart! thou shalt not faint

'Mid coming pains and fears,

As the third heaven once nerved a Saint

For fourteen trial-years.