A CATHEDRAL SERMON
A finger pointing from earth awayRises the minster tower gray, In tracery like granite lace;Within, rich glowing tints illumeThe vaulted arches' solemn gloom, And soften majesty with grace.
This glorious master-piece of artSprang from a passion of the heart, To give to God its very best:And so the men of ages goneCarved out this "symphony in stone," Then laid them down to rest.
Such would I make my life, I thought:A splendid temple, deftly wrought, By years of sacrifice and pain:Where noble deeds like gems should shine,And genius with a light divine, Redeem the common-place and plain.
So, while I mourned my placid daysWhere no heroic deed may blaze, No martyr's crown be hardly won;But where as on some temperate isle,A thousand gentle pleasures smile, And joy and duty are but one,
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