Those Sabbath-bells—they call us not to piles of mossy stone,
Temples of yore, with age now hoar, and ivy overgrown,
Through whose stained windows softly creeps a dim religious light,
Seeming as it were sanctified unto the Christian’s sight.
IV.
Nor do they tell of royal courts, in which to worship God,
Where nobles gay in bright array bend to their monarch’s nod;
No costly paintings please the eye, nor trappings rich and rare,
To draw the humble Christian’s heart from sacred praise and prayer.