The bells awake the Sabbath's choral prime, By breezes softened to a harp-like tone; Lowly and sweetly from the distance thrown, They greet the ear with jubilee and chime; Follow the sound, and it will lead thee on Into an English church, the home of Prayer, For who shall say she is not lovelier there, Than in all other fanes beneath the Sun? There, if thou doubtest, may it not impart Fresh hope, to learn that others' hope is sure? There, duly as the merchant to the mart, Come aged men, whom daily death makes fewer; There all the spirit of a Christian heart Is bodied forth in gentle rites and pure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO MASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE DEATH OF AUTUMN by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE CLOAK, THE BOAT, AND THE SHOES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE EGYPTIAN PRINCESS by EDWIN ARNOLD A SONG: REVENGE AGAINST CYNTHIA by PHILIP AYRES THE COYOTE CHORUS by ANNE BIRDSALL WOOD WITCHERY by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON CRUCIFIXUS PRO NOBIS: 2. CHRIST IN THE GARDEN by PATRICK CAREY BLANK MISGIVINGS OF A CREATURE MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED: 3 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |