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.

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?

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines read more

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow
too;
For no form of a god, and no fashion
Man has made in his desperate passion,
But is worthy some worship of mine;
Not too hot with a gross belief,
Nor yet too cold with pride,
I will bow me down where my brothers bow,
Humble, but open eyed.

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.

He wakes a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

He wakes a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a read more

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a prayer book in your hand
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord,
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;
And be not easily won to our requests.

As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in read more

As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in his image and mirror his needs.
And he clothes them with thunders and beauty,
He clothes them with music and fire,
Seeing not, as he bows by their altars,
That he worships his own desire.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

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?