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Blessèd that flock safe penned in Paradise; Blessèd this flock which tramps in weary ways; All form one flock, God's flock; all yield Him praise By joy or pain, still tending toward the prize. Joy speaks in praises there, and sings and flies Where no night is, exulting all its days; Here, pain finds solace, for, behold, it prays; In both love lives the life that never dies. Here life is the beginning of our death, And death the starting-point whence life ensues; Surely our life is death, our death is life: Nor need we lay to heart our peace or strife, But calm in faith and patience breathe the breath God gave, to take again when He shall choose.