Classic Poem

XIII. — PLACES OF WORSHIP .

Spirit ! whose life-sustaining presence fills
Air, ocean, central depths, by man untried,
Thou for thy worshippers hast sanctified
All place, all time! The silence of the hills
Breathes veneration: — founts and choral rills
Of thee are murmuring: — to its inmost glade
The living forest with thy whisper thrills,
And there is holiness on every shade.
Yet must the thoughtful soul of man invest
With dearer consecration those pure fanes,
Which, sever'd from all sound of earth's unrest,
Hear naught but suppliant or adoring strains
Rise heavenward. — Ne'er may rock or cave possess
Their claim on human hearts to solemn tenderness.