A choral fantasia

Man, born of desire, 
Cometh out of night, 
A wandering spark of fire, 
A lonely word of eternal thought, 
Echoing in chance, and forgot. 
 ... 

— Tacet —

Rejoice, ye dead, where'er your spirits dwell; 
Rejoice, that yet on earth your fame is bright, 
And that your names, remembered day and night, 
Live on the lips of those who love you well. 
'Tis ye that conquered have the powers of hell, 
Each with the special grace of your delight.
Ye are the world's creators, and by might
Alone of Heavenly love ye did excel. 
Now ye are starry names, 
Behind the sun ye climb 
To light the glooms of Time
With deathless flames.

Man, born of desire, 
Cometh out of night, 
A wandering spark of fire, 
A lonely word of eternal thought, 
Echoing in chance, and forgot. 

He seeth the sun, 
He calleth the stars by name, 
He saluteth the flowers;
 ...  wonders of land and sea, 
The mountain towers 
Of ice and air 
He seeth, and calleth them fair. 
Then he hideth his face, 
Whence he came to pass away,
Where all is forgot, 
Unmade, lost for aye, 
With the things that are not.
 
He striveth to know, 
To unravel the Mind 
That veileth in horror:
He wills to adore. 
In wisdom he walketh
And loveth his kind;
His labouring breath
Would keep evermore:
Then he hideth his face ...

He dreameth of beauty. 
He seeks to create
Fairer and fairer
To vanquish his fate:
No hindrance he, 
No curse will brook. 
He maketh a law, 
No ill shall be; 
Then he hideth his face, 
 ... 

Rejoice, ye dead, where'er your spirits dwell; 
 ...