Where, on the altar’s mouldering stone,
The fitful moonbeam brightly shone;
Then on the fearful stillness broke
Low, solemn tones, as thus he spoke:
“Before that eye whose glance pervades
All depths, all deserts, and all shades;
Heard by that ear awake on high
E’en to thought’s whispers ere they die—
With all a mortal’s awe I stand,
Yet with pure heart and stainless hand.