Classic Poem

Farewell , proud region, where the living God
Hath built a temple for the human heart
To worship in, sincerely: I have trod —
From cloudy towns and fretful men apart —
Thine aisles of majesty: in truth thou art
A vast cathedral, where devotion springs
In feelings, not in words. Thou dost impart
Sublimest doctrines by sublimest things:
The mountains are thy priesthood — Snowdon flings
A silent language from his awful face;
Prayer goeth up from streams — the cataract sings
Incessant anthems to the Throne of Grace;
And I have lingered in thy fane to feel
The Eternal's Presence o'er my spirit steal!