ON THE MANUSCRIPTS OF GOD 



Nor kingly power alone thy vested right; 

 High priest thou art of temples rarer far 

 Than all the roof-bound chiselings of man, 

 And round thy green-draped altars breezes swing 

 A hundred flowery censers sweet: the rose, 

 Campanula, and violet and white, 

 White lilies set in mossy banks of green. 

 Gay surpliced birds thy choristers that sing 

 To far-off waterfalls and mountain streams, 

 Intoning sylvan melodies divine. 



Sublime ambassador from heavenly courts, 

 Though thine the speech transcending mortal ear, 

 With mystic sense endow our holden eyes 

 That we with vision purified may see 

 The living God who veils himself in thee. 



98 



