Know they their bliss, who own their dwelling nigh
Such resting-place; there by the world forgot,
In life to worship, and when dead to lie!
Bishop Mant.
Some there are
Who hold it meet to linger now at home,
And some o’er fields and the wide hills to roam,
And worship in the temple of the air!
For me, not heedless of the lone address,
Nor slack to meet my Maker on the height,