. . .How restfully they sing,
Their Vesper praise-wreaths bringing
   To Jesus Christ their King.
’Mid lights of sunset glowing,
   St. Mary’s Abbey stands;
But see! t’is wrapped in glories,
   From far off better Lands.”
p. 6I looked again, and started,
   For lo! another scene.
The Convent is surrounded
   With Heaven’s own brightest sheen.
And choirs of Angels hover
   High in the sunset air,
While th’ holy monks are chanting
   Their peaceful, evening prayer.
The Monastery is glowing,
   Like heaps of molten gold;
The walls seem all transparent,
   With majesty untold.
T’is strange; my spirit enters
   St Mary’s Sacred Shrine,
I see the cowlèd figures,
   In many a white rob’d line, [6]
p. 7Filling the stalls, but facing
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