Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/135

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, thou consecrated dome, Whence prayer and chant and anthem rose, Whose walls have given meek hope a home, And tearful penitence, repose.

Here gathered round their shepherd-guide A flock, to the Redeemer dear, While praise in full responsive tide Soared heavenward, to its native sphere.

Here at this altar's hallowed side, Oft was the bond of deathless love Sealed by the kneeling, trembling bride— Where is that bride? Perchance above.

The mother here her infant drew, Unscathed by sin, or sorrow's rod, To win the pure, baptismal dew— Where is that mother? Ask of God.

And duly here have childhood's train Bowed to Instruction's mildest sway; But were those ceaseless lessons vain? The page of doom alone can say.

Here many a brow in beauty's prime Hath faded, like the rose-tinged cloud, And many a head grown white with time, That towered in manhood's glory proud.