You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Man always worships something; always he sees the Infinite
shadowed forth in something finite; and indeed can and must read more
Man always worships something; always he sees the Infinite
shadowed forth in something finite; and indeed can and must so
see it in any finite thing, once tempt him well to fix his eyes
thereon.
And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.
And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.
Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.
Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
read more
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's read more
I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's one for t'other. Save
me and I'll give you a taper or go on a pilgrimage.
Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
read more
Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised?
How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the read more
How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to other's note,
Singing their great Creator?
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, read more
The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.