AS through a glass, but dimly,We are seen by mortal ken,And exteriors, soft and seemly,Oft deceive the eyes of men;The heart oft closes on the caresThat in its deep cells lie,That none may gaze upon its tearsBut the All-Seeing Eye.
In cheerful songs of mirth and glee,The playful voice is heardIn strains as glad and wild and freeAs songs of forest bird;But the Eye that never slumbers,Ever watchful, sees the artBy which the gladsome numbersSteal so lightly from the heart.
The tripping feet dance lightlyTo the pealing sounds of joy,And the laughing eye beams brightly,While gay wit the lips employ,Till earthly observations failThe heart's gloom to descry;Yet angel fingers lift the veilTo the All-Seeing Eye.