Which swells in highest grandeur, o’er the hill
That rises to the westward, stands the church
All pure and peaceful in the holy light.
On its embattled tower the moonbeams fall,
And seem to hallow it, so fair and calm
It gleams within them. From its summit shoots
The tall and taper spire, and high o’ertops
The loftiest trees around, and stands alone
Amid the ether, whilst its form sublime
With emblematic finger points to heaven!