The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

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Making all earth a fane, all heaven its dome!
To HIS tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The jubilate of the soaring lark
Is chant of clerk;
For Choir, the thrush and the gregarious linnet;
The sod's a cushion for his pious want;
And, consecrated by the heaven within it,
The sky-blue pool, a font.
Each cloud-capped mountain is a holy altar;
An organ breathes in every grove;
And the fall heart's a Psalter,
Rich in deep hymns of gratitude and love!
Sufficiently by stern necessitarians
Poor Nature, with her face begrimmed by dust,
Is stoked, coked, smoked, and almost choked: but must
Religion have its own Utilitarians,
Labeled with evangelical phylacteries,
To make the road to heaven a railway trust,
And churches--that's the naked fact--mere factories?
O! simply open wide the temple door,
And let the solemn, swelling organ greet,
With VOLUNTARIES meet,
The WILLING advent of the rich and poor!
And while to God the loud Hosannas soar,
With rich vibiations from the vocal throng--
From quiet shades that to the woods belong,
And brooks with music of their own,
Voices may come to swell the choral song
With notes of praise they learned in musings lone.
How strange it is, while on all vital questions,
That occupy the House and public mind,
We always meet with some humane suggestions
Of gentle measures of a healing kind,
Instead of harsh severity and vigor,
The saint alone his preference retains
For bills of penalties and pains,
And marks his narrow code with legal rigor!