I KNOW WHAT BEAUTY IS.

I know what beauty is, for Thou Hast set the world within my heart; Its glory from me will not part; I never loved it more than now.

I know the Sabbath afternoon: The light lies sleeping on the graves; Against the sky the poplar waves; The river plays a Sabbath tune.

Ah, know I not the spring's snow-bell? The summer woods at close of even? Autumn, when earth dies into heaven, And winter's storms, I know them well.

I know the rapture music brings, The power that dwells in ordered tones, A living voice that loves and moans, And speaks unutterable things.

Consenting beauties in a whole; The living eye, the imperial head, The gait of inward music bred, The woman form, a radiant soul.

And splendours all unspoken bide Within the ken of spirit's eye; And many a glory saileth by, Borne on the Godhead's living tide.

But I leave all, thou man of woe! Put off my shoes, and come to Thee; Thou art most beautiful to me; More wonderful than all I know.

As child forsakes his favourite toy, His sisters' sport, his wild bird's nest; And climbing to his mother's breast, Enjoys yet more his former joy—

I lose to find. On forehead wide The jewels tenfold light afford: So, gathered round thy glory, Lord, All beauty else is glorified.