The Believer

The soul that is not altogether bound
     To the dull clods of earth, but oft hath striven
     In trials of deep thought to compass heaven,
Is blessed above the unheeding world around,
With a deep quiet and a joy profound.
     To it, bright visions of bright lands are given,
     Seen like the sunlight through the clouds of even,
And peopled with fair ministers, the sound
Of whose sweet voices, spirit-heard, exalts
     The soul: and, with that inner life imbued,
Over the trials of our lot it vaults,
     And far above the groveling multitude
It walks with God, crowned victor o’er the assaults
     Of the arch tempter and his sinful brood.