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‘Oh! in the realms of Light (should I attain
Those seats where saints and angels swell the strain
Before the Throne, ‘mid troops of Seraphs bright,
Whose farthest circles fade in distant light),
Even when the high and holy harmony
Went up acclaiming everlastingly,
Should some soft voice more musically clear
Steal with an added sweetness on the ear,
Methinks (for so to my rapt thought it seems
As now I listen, dallying with vain dreams)
I should recall, in Tytherton’s still shade,
Thy voice and look, Oh! mild Moravian maid.
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