Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
read more

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
Forget not.

How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the read more

How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to other's note,
Singing their great Creator?

The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, read more

The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.

Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.

Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a read more

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a prayer book in your hand
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord,
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;
And be not easily won to our requests.

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines read more

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow
too;
For no form of a god, and no fashion
Man has made in his desperate passion,
But is worthy some worship of mine;
Not too hot with a gross belief,
Nor yet too cold with pride,
I will bow me down where my brothers bow,
Humble, but open eyed.

So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
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So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
Where faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell,
Written in blood--and Bigotry may swell
The sail he spreads for Heav'n with blasts from hell!

Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
read more

Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised?

Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod,
They have left unstained, what there read more

Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod,
They have left unstained, what there they found,--
Freedom to worship God.