The lotos bowed above the tide and dreamed

Pain is no longer pain when it is past.

With guilt's defilement stained without, within, How can I hope Thy cleansing grace to win? —Because Thou saidst, "I have forgiven thy sin."

Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew Shut in a lily's golden core.

White as the blossoms which the almond-tree, Above its bald and leafless branches bears.

[T]he pure memories given To help our joy on earth, when earth is past, Shall help our joy in heaven!

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.