The Church is man when his awed soul goes out In reverence to a mystery that swathes him all about. When any living man in awe gropes Godward in his search, Then in that hour, that living man becomes the living Church, Then though in wilderness or in waste, his soul is swept along Down naves of prayer, through aisles of praise, up altar-stairs of song, And when man fronts the mystery with spirit bowed in prayer, There is the universal Churchthe Church of God is there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BONNYBELL: THE BUTTERFLY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OCTAVES: 20 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MIANTOWONA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BLOOD ON THE WHEEL by ALEXANDER ANDERSON ON A YOUNG POETESS'S GRAVE by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN HUNTING SEASON by MARGUERITE KEARNS BURNETT POETICAL INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALTAR OF INDEPENDENCE by ROBERT BURNS POORTITH CAULD by ROBERT BURNS PROLOGUE FOR MRS. SUTHERLAND'S BENEFIT NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS |