Here in this shrine of harmony and peace,
Illusive discords and despairings cease.
Here pure and gracious flowers star the air,
Shedding their silent sweetness everywhere!
And here are uttered only lovely things,
Angels of thought, with healing in their wings,
That tear the veil from matter's false disguise,
And lift the heavy scales from Christless eyes!
E'en as of old, to hill-crowned Galilee
Thronged the infirm and cried their misery
Aloud to Jesus Christ, and round him prest,
So throng the stricken to this place of rest,
Hung'ring for healing; and, behold, they find
That sordid mortal sense alone is blind!
And this by Truth corrected cannot seem
To bind them to a tortured mortal dream!
For man is ever spiritual and free;
God's children dwell in God's own harmony!
