The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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THE TEMPLE OF NATURE. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
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THE TEMPLE OF NATURE.
Were there no temple reared by mortal hands,
No altar-stone, no consecrated shrine,
No edifice for purposes divine,
To congregate the people of the lands,—
Still would the flame of adoration's fire
Survive in human hearts, and heavenward aspire.
No altar-stone, no consecrated shrine,
No edifice for purposes divine,
To congregate the people of the lands,—
Still would the flame of adoration's fire
Survive in human hearts, and heavenward aspire.
What need of graceful arch and storied pane
To a poor suffering sinner on his knees?
The universe has greater things than these
Wherewith to decorate God's boundless fane;
And many voices of sublimer powers,
Which send into the skies a grander psalm than ours.
To a poor suffering sinner on his knees?
The universe has greater things than these
Wherewith to decorate God's boundless fane;
And many voices of sublimer powers,
Which send into the skies a grander psalm than ours.
With never-failing lamps the heavens are hung,
The mighty sun by fiery robes embraced,
The changeful moon, so beautiful and chaste,
The crowded stars in countless systems strung,
And meteors speeding with a fearful flight
Through all the realms of space, and swathed in marvellous light.
The mighty sun by fiery robes embraced,
The changeful moon, so beautiful and chaste,
The crowded stars in countless systems strung,
And meteors speeding with a fearful flight
Through all the realms of space, and swathed in marvellous light.
And there are sounds of worship that arise
From birds and trees, in many a sigh and song,
From winds and waters hurrying along,
From restless oceans heaving towards the skies;
And flowers, fruits, spices, streams of incense send
Up to the floating clouds, where they in sweetness blend.
From birds and trees, in many a sigh and song,
From winds and waters hurrying along,
From restless oceans heaving towards the skies;
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Up to the floating clouds, where they in sweetness blend.
On mountain-tops we'd breathe our matin hymn,
While the lark chanted to the new-born day;
At noon retire to meditate and pray
In the old forest aisles, so cool and dim;
At night, amid our household seek the Lord,
And learn the precious truths shrined in His blessed Word.
While the lark chanted to the new-born day;
At noon retire to meditate and pray
In the old forest aisles, so cool and dim;
At night, amid our household seek the Lord,
And learn the precious truths shrined in His blessed Word.
And yet, 'tis well that men should congregate
To read, expound, and venerate the Page
Which shall extend from brightening age to age—
The hopeful promise of a holier state;
'Tis well to meet with souls that look above,
To form and propagate a brotherhood of love.
To read, expound, and venerate the Page
Which shall extend from brightening age to age—
The hopeful promise of a holier state;
'Tis well to meet with souls that look above,
To form and propagate a brotherhood of love.
Oh! for one simple creed, which all could share,
The mildest, purest, mercifullest, best,
That we might follow God's divine behest,
And worship Him in gladness everywhere;
Free from all doubt, intolerance, and pride,
Pursue the better way, with Jesus for our guide.
The mildest, purest, mercifullest, best,
That we might follow God's divine behest,
And worship Him in gladness everywhere;
Free from all doubt, intolerance, and pride,
Pursue the better way, with Jesus for our guide.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |