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Oh there is music in that thought
Unto a heart unstrung, Like sweet bells at the evening-time
Most musically rung.
'T is not His justice or His power,
Beauty or blest abode, But the mere unexpanded thought
Of the Eternal God.
It is not of His wondrous works,
Nor even that He is : Words fail it, but it is a thought
Which by itself is bliss.
Sweet thought! lie closer to my heart,
That I may feel thee near, As one who for his weapon feels
In some nocturnal fear.
Mostly in hours of gloom thou com'st, When sadness makes us lowly,
As though thou wert the echo sweet Of humble melancholy.
T bless Thee, Lord ! for this kind check
To spirits over free, And for all things that make me feel
More helpless need of Thee.