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...A,B,C by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY IDEA: 14. TO TIME by MICHAEL DRAYTON THE ARROW AND THE SONG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AN APPREHENSION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A SICK-BED by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WEST 58TH STREET by MELVILLE CANE AN AUTUMN GHOST-TRAIL by ALICE CHURCHILL CHAPHE |