Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/241

Rh

Blessings be round it still! that gleaming fane, Low in its mountain-glen! old mossy trees Mellow the sunshine through the untinted pane, And oft, borne in upon some fitful breeze, The deep sound of the ever-pealing seas, Filling the hollows with its anthem-tone, There meets the voice of psalms!—yet not alone, For memories lulling to the heart as these, I bless thee, midst thy rocks, grey house of prayer! But for their sakes who unto thee repair From the hill-cabins and the ocean-shore. Oh! may the fisher and the mountaineer, Words to sustain earth's toiling children hear, Within thy lowly walls for evermore!