Classic Poem

One little group was kneeling far down the silent nave,
As in the very Valley and deep Shadow of the Grave.

Then a sound low as the accents heard when little children pray,
Struggled up into the silence, and in silence died away.

Tones of deep and holy Passion, as for some abiding Loss,
Rising now above the Altar, seemed to hover round the Cross.

Then the interval was broken with a burst of thunder tones!
And the Music shook the Temple to its foundation stones!

Then methought: “Again the Samson wrestles with the heathen walls”;
And I heard above the tumult cried, “The House of Dagon falls!”

And I saw the walls and columns rock and totter to and fro,
Till they toppled down and thundered into the abyss below!

But the little group—behold it!—all unscathed amidst the shock,
Kneeling in the open sunshine, on the Everlasting Rock!