EPILOGUE.
Is it well, O my Soul, is it well?
In silent aisles of sombre tone
Where phantoms roam, thou dwell’st apart
In drear alone.
Where serpents coil and night-birds dart
Thou liest prone, O Heart, my Heart,
In dread unknown.
O Soul of Night, surpassing fair,
Guide this poor spirit through the air,
And thus atone …
This sad Soul, searching for the light….
O Soul of Night, enstarréd bright,
Shine over all.
Enforce thy right to fend for us
Extend thy power to fight for us
Raise thou night’s pall.
Ensteep our minds in loveliness
In all sweet hope and godliness
Give guard o’er all …
This brave Soul striving in stern fight….
Thou soul of Night, thou spirit-elf,
Rise up and bless.
Help us to cleanse in holiness
Show how to dress in saintliness
Our weary selves,
Expurge our deeds of earthiness
Expunge desires of selfliness
Rise up and bless …
This strong Soul dying in such plight….
Night gently spreads her wings and flies
Star-laden, wide across the skies.
My Soul, new strong,
So late enstained with earthly dust
So long estranged in wander-lust
Gives praise and song,
Strives to create in morning light
The starry wonders of the night
In praise and song …
This strong Soul praising in new right.
It is well, O my Soul, it is well….
A. L. WREN.