The Lamb, and all His grief and smart, Shall be the pleasure of my heart, While it doth move in me; And when that heart no more shall move, My Spirit, finding her old Love, Shall kiss Him tenderly. Then you and I, and thousands more, From this, and your, and every shore, Shall each the other find: Happy in that which always here, When to the heart 'twas plain and clear, The many members join'd. And then, too, we shall think no more, What we were used to think before; Alas! how distant we! The Blood will flow through every limb On each of us from Him! from Him! And we united be.
— JAMES HUTTON (MORAVIAN)