ought:
Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

Those who have never felt the need of the divine, entering by the channel
of will and choice and prayer, for the upholding, purifying, and
glorifying of that which itself first created human, will consider this
poem untrue, having its origin in religious affectation. Others will
think otherwise.

The greater part of what I shall next quote is tolerably known even to
those who have made little study of our earlier literature, yet it may
not be omitted here. It is from _An Hymne of Heavenly Love_, consisting
of forty-one stanzas, written in what was called _Rime Royal_--a
favourite with Milton, and, next to the Spenserian, in my opinion the
finest of stanzas. Its construction will reveal itself. I take two
stanzas from the beginning of the hymn, then one from the heart of it,
and the rest from the close. It gives no feeling of an outburst of song,
but rather of a brooding chant, most quiet in virtue of the depth of its
thoughtfulness. Indeed, all his rhythm is like the melodies of water, and
I could quote at least three passages in which he speaks of rhythmic
movements and watery progressions together. His thoughts, and hence his
words, flow like a full, peaceful stream, diffuse, with plenteousness
unrestrained.

AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY LOVE.

Before this world's great frame, in which all things
Are now contained, found any being place,
Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas[55] wings
About that mighty bound which doth embrace
The rolling spheres, and parts their hours by space,
That high eternal power, which now doth move
In all these things, moved in itself by love.

It loved itself, because itself was fair,
For fair is loved; and of itself begot
Like to itself his eldest son and heir,
Eternal, pure, and void of sinful blot,

The firstling of his joy, in whom no jot
Of love's dislike or pride was to be found,
Whom he therefore with equal honour crowned.

* * * * *

Out of the bosom of eternal bliss,
In which he reigned with his glorious Sire,
He down descended, like a most demisse _humble._
And abject thrall, in flesh's frail attire,
That he for him might pay sin's deadly hire,
And him restore unto that happy state
In which he stood before his hapless fate.

* * * * *

O blessed well of love! O flower o