Sometimes a lantern moves along the night,   
  That interests our eyes. And who goes there?   
  I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,   
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?   
   
Men go by me whom either beauty bright           
  In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:   
  They rain against our much-thick and marsh air   
Rich beams, till death or distance buys them quite.   
   
Death or distance soon consumes them: wind   
  What most I may eye after, be in at the end    
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind.   
   
Christ minds: Christ’s interest, what to avow or amend   
  There, eyes them, heart wants, care haunts, foot follows kind,   
Their ransom, their rescue, and first, fast, last friend.