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.
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It is the Mass the matters.
It is the Mass the matters.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
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.
So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
read more
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!
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?
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.
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.
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.
