He who binds

At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.

They are all up—the innumerable stars— And hold their place in heaven. […] There they stand, Shining in order, like a living hymn Written in light, awaking at the breath Of the celestial dawn, and praising Him

If there is any thing that keeps the mind Open to angel visits, and repels The ministry of ill—tis human love.

Wisdom sits alone Topmost in Heaven.

One lamp—thy mother's love—amid the stars Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and, before The throne of God burn through eternity— Holy—as it was lit and lent thee here.

For it stirs the blood in an old man’s heart, And makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice, And the light of a pleasant eye.