六月中旬的夜晚，在沉沉的雾气中垂死，像牧师的手，你神圣的触摸躺在世界宽阔的额头上;上帝般伟大的大自然在指挥着“超越人类理解的和平”;我现在也感受到了。如果我梦寐以求的一个生命宝藏不是我的，今晚又有什么关系呢!难道我要用自己的欲望来衡量上天的恩赐吗?O !在许多恩赐聚集的地方，求一些远的恩赐，神的旨意，也许不能。我是否应该学习到，如果把渴望抬得更高，也许就能捕捉到神圣的火光，那火光就能证明我的十字架是金的?在这十字架下面——不管多么卑微，有一颗洁白、美丽、神圣的宝石，它的价值无法估量。就像有一天我惊奇地看到的一幕:一座伟大而强大的城市，躺在灰色和金色的天空下; The sun outbreaking in his farewell hour, Was scattering afar a yellow shower Of light, that aureoled With brief hot touch, so marvellous and shining, A hundred steeples on the sky out-lining, Like network threads of fire; Above them all, with halo far outspreading, I saw a golden cross in glory heading A consecrated spire: I only saw its gleaming form uplifting, Against the clouds of grey to seaward drifting, And yet I surely know Beneath the seen, a great unseen is resting, For while the cross that pinnacle is cresting, An Altar lies below. . . . . . Night of Mid-June, so slumberous and tender, Night of Mid-June, transcendent in thy splendour Thy silent wings enfold And hush my longing, as at thy desire All colour fades from round that far-off spire, Except its cross of gold.