I. The Liturgy.
Ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest.
A path of peace amid the tangled grove,
A moon-lit way of sweet security—
Bright holy days that form a galaxy
To make a road to Heav'n—strains from above
Whereon the spheres of duty kindlier move,
Drinking pure light and heav'n-born harmony—
Such is the path of thy calm Liturgy,
Ancient of mothers, in parental love
Daily unwinding from thine annual maze
Treasures that wax not old, whence still may grow
Fresh adoration. On thy face (of thee
Praying to be more worthy) as we gaze
Thy soul comes forth in beauty, and thy brow
So calm, is full of holiest Deity.
