Classic Poem

Lift up thine eyes to seek the invisible:
Stir up thy heart to choose the still unseen:
Strain up thy hope in glad perpetual green
To scale the exceeding height where all saints dwell.
—Saints, it is well with you?—Yea, it is well.—
Where they have reaped, by faith kneel thou to glean:
Because they stooped so low to reap, they lean
Now over golden harps unspeakable.
—But thou purblind and deafened, knowest thou
Those glorious beauties unexperienced
By ear or eye or by heart hitherto?—
I know Whom I have trusted: wherefore now
All amiable, accessible tho' fenced,
Golden Jerusalem floats full in view.