Meter 21

O sons of mankind, o’er earth moving,
Let each that hath freedom find out the way
To the eternal goodness whereof our speech is,
And to the blessings that are our song’s burden.
The man that is straitly bound by the sway

Of the worthless love of this world glorious,
Let him right soon seek for himself
Fullness of freedom, that forthwith he may come
Into the blessings of the Bidder of spirits ;
For this is the rest from all our wrestling,
The hopeful haven for the high vessels
Of the minds of us men, mild harbour bright.
This is the only hithe we ever shall have
After the tossing of troublous billows,
After each tempest, truly peaceful.
This is the sanctuary, the sole comfort
Of all weary mortals, when they are over,
Our worldly troubles ; ’tis the winsome bourne
That shall be ours to own after these hardships.
But well do I trow, no treasure golden,
No jewel of silver, no gem of cunning,
No wealth of this world will ever illumine
The eyes of the mind ; nor do they amend
Their keenness of sight so that they spy
Bliss unfeigned ; but they far more
The eyes of the mind of every man
Blind in his breast than make them brighter.
So each of the things that now on earth
In this their life is loved by mankind,
Frail and earthly, fleeteth away.
But they be wondrous, the Beauty and Brightness
That give brightness and beauty to each,
And possess ever after power over all.
It is not the will nor the wish of the Ruler
That our souls should perish, but He preferreth
With light to fill them, life’s Controller,
If any wight therefore with his eyes undimmed,
The glance of his spirit, may ever gaze on
The clear brightness of the heavenly beam,
Then will he say that the sun’s shining
Is merely darkness to the mind of each man,

If it be measured with the mighty light
Of God Almighty ; for every spirit
Tis ceaseless, eternal, for the souls of the blest.