MEDITATION

Here perpetual incense burns;
The heart to meditation turns,
And all delights and passions spurns.
A thousand brilliant hues arise,

More lovely than the evening skies,
And pictures paint before our eyes.
All the spirit’s storm and stress
Is stilled into a nothingness,

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And healing powers descend and bless.
Refreshed, we rise and turn again
To mingle with this world of pain,
As on roses falls the rain.