WOOD WORSHIP.
Here, in the silent forest solitudes,
Deep in the quiet of these lonely shades,
The angelic peace of heaven forever broods,
And His own presence fills the solemn glades.
Deep in the quiet of these lonely shades,
The angelic peace of heaven forever broods,
And His own presence fills the solemn glades.
Cease, my weak soul, the courts of men to tread,
Leave the tumultuous heavings of thy kind,
And, by the soul of grateful nature led,
Seek the still woods and there thy Sabbath find.
Leave the tumultuous heavings of thy kind,
And, by the soul of grateful nature led,
Seek the still woods and there thy Sabbath find.
Shall worship only live in pillared domes,—
The organ's pealing notes sole anthems raise,—
While every wind that through the forest roams,
Draws from its whispering boughs a chant of praise?
The organ's pealing notes sole anthems raise,—
While every wind that through the forest roams,
Draws from its whispering boughs a chant of praise?
Here the thick leaves that scent the tremulous air
Let the bright sunshine pass with softened light,
And lips unwonted breathe instinctive prayer,
In these cool arches filled with verdurous night.
Let the bright sunshine pass with softened light,
And lips unwonted breathe instinctive prayer,
In these cool arches filled with verdurous night.
