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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420886" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Worship</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Pagan's myths through marble lips are spoken,<br>And ghosts of old Beliefs still flit and moan<br>Round fane and altar overthrown and broken,<br>O'er tree-grown barrow and gray ring of stone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blind Faith had martyrs in those old high places,<br>The Syrian hill grove and the Druid's wood,<br>With mother's offering, to the Fiend's embraces,<br>Bone of their bone, and blood of their own blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red altars, kindling through that night of error,<br>Smoked with warm blood beneath the cruel eye<br>Of lawless Power and sanguinary Terror,<br>Throned on the circle of a pitiless sky;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath whose baleful shadow, overcasting<br>All heaven above, and blighting earth below,<br>The scourge grew red, the lip grew pale with fasting,<br>And man's oblation was his fear and woe!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then through great temples swelled the dismal moaning<br>Of dirge-like music and sepulchral prayer;<br>Pale wizard priests, o'er occult symbols droning,<br>Swung their white censers in the burdened air</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As if the pomp of rituals, and the savor<br>Of gums and spices could the Unseen One please;<br>As if His ear could bend, with childish favor,<br>To the poor flattery of the organ keys!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Feet red from war-fields trod the church aisles holy,<br>With trembling reverence: and the oppressor there,<br>Kneeling before his priest, abased and lowly,<br>Crushed human hearts beneath his knee of prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not such the service the benignant Father<br>Requireth at His earthly children's hands<br>Not the poor offering of vain rites, but rather<br>The simple duty man from man demands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Earth He asks it: the full joy of heaven<br>Knoweth no change of waning or increase;<br>The great heart of the Infinite beats even,<br>Untroubled flows the river of His peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He asks no taper lights, on high surrounding<br>The priestly altar and the saintly grave,<br>No dolorous chant nor organ music sounding,<br>Nor incense clouding tip the twilight nave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For he whom Jesus loved hath truly spoken<br>The holier worship which he deigns to bless<br>Restores the lost, and binds the spirit broken,<br>And feeds the widow and the fatherless!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Types of our human weakness and our sorrow!<br>Who lives unhaunted by his loved ones dead?<br>Who, with vain longing, seeketh not to borrow<br>From stranger eyes the home lights which have fled?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother;<br>Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there;<br>To worship rightly is to love each other,<br>Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Follow with reverent steps the great example<br>Of Him whose holy work was 'doing good;'<br>So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple,<br>Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then shall all shackles fall; the stormy clangor<br>Of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease;<br>Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger,<br>And in its ashes plant the tree of peace!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420886" data-title="Worship de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="The Pagan's myths through marble lips are spoken,
And ghosts of old Beliefs still flit and moan
Round fane and altar overthrown and broken,
O'er tree-grown barrow and gray ring of stone.

Blind Faith had martyrs in those old high places,
The Syria..."></div>
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