Floating at ease, while nations have effaced
Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold
Long lines of mighty kings. Look forth, my soul!
(Nor in this vision be thou slow to trust)
The living Waters, less and less by guilt
Stained and polluted, brighten as they roll,
Till they have reached the Eternal City-built
For the perfected spirits of the Just!

THE END.

GILBERT & RIVINGTON, Printers, St. John's Square, London.