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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for read more
Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for thine.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
read more
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Man always worships something; always he sees the Infinite
shadowed forth in something finite; and indeed can and must read more
Man always worships something; always he sees the Infinite
shadowed forth in something finite; and indeed can and must so
see it in any finite thing, once tempt him well to fix his eyes
thereon.