Our church! Oh, love—oh, hopes—oh, dreams!
We stood without—a pallid throng—
And as the flame leaped high and higher,
Shrill winds we heard that rushed along
And fanned the transports of the fire.
The sky grew black; against the sky
The blue and scarlet flames leaped high,
And cries as of lost souls wailed by.
The church in glowing vesture stood,
The lead ran down as it were wax,