Classic Poem

Gentle Hermits of the waste!
Tenants of the mossy cell!
Hail to you, who nobly fac'd
All the raging hosts of Hell!

Yours it was to tread in dust
Golden heaps and jewell'd toys,
Vain ambition's empty trust,
All the world's defiling joys.

Scanty herb and running brook
All your simple fare supplied;
All your rest the chilly rock,
Hollow'd in the mountain side.

Asp and adder gliding by,
Howling fiends of angry night,
Gloomy portents of the sky,
Smit your soul with no affright.

Where the golden mansions glow,
Thither had she sped her way;
From the vale of night below,
Mounting to immortal day!

Praise to Thee, O Trine and One!
Father, high enthron'd above!
Virgin-born, eternal Son!
Spirit of eternal love!