August 19

Clothed with white robes.

WHERE thou hast touched, O wondrous Death! Where thou hast come between,

Lo, there for ever perisheth

The common and the mean.

No little flaw or trivial speck

Doth any more appear,

And cannot from this time, to fleck

Love's perfect image clear.

Clear stands Love's perfect image now,

And shall do evermore;

And we in awe and wonder bow

The glorified before.

ARCH-

BISHOP

TRENCH

2 G

THE TRIUMPH OF THE WISE