Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music: there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.  How strange, that all
The terrors, pains, and early miseries,
Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused
Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part,
And that a needful part, in making up
The calm existence that is mine when I
Am worthy of myself.  Praise to the end!

-- William Wordsworth
(from The Prelude)
(in Poetry for the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

Break forth into thanksgiving,
Ye banded instruments of wind and chords;
Unite, to magnify the Ever-living,
Your inarticulate notes with the voice of words!
Nor hushed be service from the lowing mead,
Nor mute the forest hum of noon;
Thou too be heard, lone eagle! freed
From snowy peak and cloud, attune
Thy hungry barkings to the hymn
Of joy, that from her utmost walls
The six-days' Work by flaming Seraphim
Transmits to Heaven!  As Deep to Deep
Shouting through one valley calls,
All worlds, all natures, mood and measure keep
For praise and ceaseless gratulation, poured
Into the ear of God, their Lord!

-- William Wordsworth
(from On the Power of Sound)
(in Poetry for the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

When the eye of wisdom opened in me, all duality and unity disappeared;
A great wonder possessed my soul, neither subject nor object remained.
When the music of Reality fell on mine ear, all other sounds ceased;
Love withdrew all name and form from my being: sorrow and joy vanished forever.

-- Nazir
(trans. by H. P. Shastri)
(in Poetry for the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

Sometimes with His beauty He sets the heart on fire,
Sometimes He induces ecstasy.
Those who know Him cry with one voice:
'He is the singer, He the song and He the music.'

He speaks through every tune, He is manifest in every melody.

-- Nazir
(trans. by H. P. Shastri)
(in Poetry for the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)