To kneel before his Maker, and to hear
The chanted service pealing full and clear.
Ask why, alone, in the same spot he kneels
Through the long year? Oh! the wide world is cold,
As dark to him; here, he no longer feels
His sad bereavement—Faith and Hope uphold
His heart—he feels not he is poor and blind,
Amid the unpitying tumult of mankind:
As thro’ the aisles the choral anthems roll,
His soul is in the choirs above the skies,