Here it is, typed as it is printed:
Not where it beats, O Lord, but where it loves,
Lives, evermore, the heart that Thou hast made:
Thus Thy Augustine spake,--none better knew
Than he, the truth so true which he had said.
Far-ranging was his heart, compassionate,
Tender to all, and even sweet to foes--
Too rich to hold one drop of bitterness;
Well might he speak of love as one who knows.
Peerless as friend, perfect as Pastor, still
That heart we know so royal and so vast,
That all things human found therein a home,
Owned to two cords alone that held it fast:
His Mother and his God,--Augustine's all
In these two words is said, to them there rolled
Exuberant his mighty tide of life,
To them the secrets of his heart unfold.