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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.
It is the Mass the matters.
It is the Mass the matters.
As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in read more
As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in his image and mirror his needs.
And he clothes them with thunders and beauty,
He clothes them with music and fire,
Seeing not, as he bows by their altars,
That he worships his own desire.
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.
Stoop, boys. This gate
Instructs you how t' adore the heavens and bows you
To a morning's read more
Stoop, boys. This gate
Instructs you how t' adore the heavens and bows you
To a morning's holy office.
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.
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.
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.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.