They stood and gazed into the summer sky,
That earnest band of holy men and true:
It was no vision that might pass them by,
As the bright clouds enwrapt Him from their view;
No self--withdrawal of His form still nigh:
As victory was strange, and hope was new,
More gloom athwart their hearts this sorrow drew,
While vainly upward searched each eager eye.

But on their ear those voices' unison
Broke, as the choir of heaven on men below:
And, as the portals of the morning, shone
Their glistering raiment; and though still alone
We dwell without our Lord, yet this we know,
That He shall thus return as they beheld Him go.