England's Antiphon

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My soul doth pant towards thee,
My God, source of eternal life.

Flesh fights with me:
Oh end the strife,

And part us, that in peace I may


My wearied spirit, and take

My flight to thy eternal spring,

Where, for his sake
Who is my king,

I may wash all my tears away,

  That day.

Thou conqueror of death,

Glorious triumpher o'er the grave,

Whose holy breath
Was spent to save

Lost mankind, make me to be styled

  Thy child,

And take me when I die

And go unto my dust; my soul

Above the sky
With saints enrol,

That in thy arms, for ever, I

  May lie.

This last is quite regular, that is, the second stanza is arranged precisely as the first, though such will not appear to be the case without examination: the disposition of the lines, so various in length, is confusing though not confused.

In these poems will be found that love of homeliness which is characteristic of all true poets--and orators too, in as far as they are poets. The meeting of the homely and the grand is heaven. One more.

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