Classic Poem

Once more I pace thy pillared halls,
And hear the organ echoes sigh
In blissful death on storied walls:
But where art thou? not here; nor nigh.

Once more the rapt spring-breezes send
A flash o'er yonder winding flood,
And with the garden's fragrance blend
A fresher breath from lawn and wood.

Friend! where art thou? Thy works reply;
The lowly school; the high-arched fane:
Who loves his kind can never die:
Who serves his God, with God shall reign.