It is not about the pasture of the sheep, but about their wool.
[Lat., Non est de pastu ovium read more

It is not about the pasture of the sheep, but about their wool.
[Lat., Non est de pastu ovium quaestio, sed de lana.]

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew,
and beat upon that house; and it read more

And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew,
and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded
upon a rock.

Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his Name.

Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame,
Will never mark the marble with his Name.

God never had a church but there, men say,
The devil a chapel hath raised by some wiles,
read more

God never had a church but there, men say,
The devil a chapel hath raised by some wiles,
I doubted of this saw, till on a day
I westward spied great Edinburgh's Saint Giles.

I never weary of great churches. It is my favourite kind of
mountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily read more

I never weary of great churches. It is my favourite kind of
mountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily inspired as when
it made a cathedral.

In that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities
of twenty generations lie buried, in the Great Abbey, read more

In that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities
of twenty generations lie buried, in the Great Abbey, which has
during many ages afforded a quiet resting-place to those whose
minds and bodies have been shattered by the contentions of the
Great Hall.

As like a church and an ale-house, God and the devell, they manie
times dwell neere to ether.

As like a church and an ale-house, God and the devell, they manie
times dwell neere to ether.

When once thy foot enters the church, be bare.
God is more there than thou: for thou art there
read more

When once thy foot enters the church, be bare.
God is more there than thou: for thou art there
Only by his permission. Then beware,
That leads from earth to heaven.

No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n;
But such plain read more

No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n;
But such plain roofs as Piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.