He wakes a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

He wakes a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

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!

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.

And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.

And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.

I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's read more

I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's one for t'other. Save
me and I'll give you a taper or go on a pilgrimage.

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?

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.

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.