This world of wonders, where our lot is cast,
Hath far more ends than one. A man may stand
On the bluff rocks that stretch from Sennen Church,
And watch the rude Atlantic hurling in
The mighty billows:--thus his land may end.

Another lies with gasping breath, and sees
The mightier billows of eternity
Dashing upon the outmost rocks of life:
And his Land's End is near. And so, one day,
With the Lord's flock, close on Time's limit, stand
On the last headland of the travelled world,
And watch, like sun--streak on the ocean's waste,
His Advent drawing nigh. Thus shall the Church
Her Land's End reach: and then may you and we,
Dear Cornish friends, once more in company,
Look out upon the glorious realms of hope,
And find the last of earth,--the first of God.