Each several Saint the Church reveres,
What is he but an altar whence
Some separate Virtue ministers
To God a separate frankincense?
Each beyond each, not made of hands,
They rise, a ladder angel-trod:
Star-bright the last and loftiest stands —
That altar is the Throne of God.
Lost in the uncreated light
A Form all Human rests thereon:
His shade from that surpassing height
Beyond creation's verge is thrown.
Him “Lord of lords, and King of kings,”
The chorus of all worlds proclaim:—
“He took from her,” one angel sings
At intervals, “His Human frame.”