text:  7 But as some stream when from its source it gushes O'er rocks in storm and tumult rushes And smooths its after course to bright repose So through the Shadow-Land of Beauty glides The Life Ideal--on sweet silver tides Glassing the day and night star as it flows-- Here contest is the interchange of Love Here rule is but the empire of the Grace; Gone every foe Peace folds her wings above The holy haunted place