Love's great artillery

The conscious water saw its God and blushed.

What soul soe'er, in any language, can Speak heav'n like hers is my soul's countryman. Oh, 'tis not Spanish, but 'tis heav'n she speaks! 'Tis heaven that lies in ambush there, and breaks

Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say Hail, door of life: and sourse of day! The door was shutt, the fountain seal'd; Yet Light was seen and Life reveald. The door was shutt, yet let in day, The fountain seald, yet life found way.

If I were lost in misery What was it to Thy heaven and thee? What was it to Thy precious blood If my foul heart called for a flood? What if my faithless soul and I Would needs fall in

’Tis love, not years or limbs that can Make the martyr, or the man.

Nothing speaks our Grief so well As to speak nothing