Classic Poem

This is God's house—the blue sky is the ceiling,
This wood the soft, green carpet for His feet,
Those hills His stairs, down which the brooks come stealing,
With baby laughter making earth more sweet.

And here His friends come, clouds and soft winds sighing,
And little birds whose throats pour forth their love,
And spring and summer, and the white snow lying
Pencilled with shadows of bare boughs above.

And here come sunbeams through the green leaves straying,
And shadows from the storm-clouds overdrawn,
And warm, hushed nights, when mother earth is praying
So late that her moon-candle burns till dawn.

Sweet house of God, sweet earth so full of pleasure,
I enter at thy gates in storm of calm;
And every sunbeam is a joy and treasure,
And every cloud a solace and a balm.