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'Tis the hour of even now,When, with pensive, thoughtful brow,Seeking truths as yet unknown,Bishop Hubert walks alone.
Fain would he, by lonely thought,Nature's secret laws be taught,Learn the destinies of man,And creation's wonders scan.
From these data he would traceHidden mysteries of grace,Dive into a deeper theme,Solve redemption's glorious scheme.
So he flings aside to-dayMitre's pomp and crosier's sway—Seeks the desert's silent scene,And the marge of ocean green.