DIM thro' the sculptured aisles the sunbeam falls <br />More like a dream <br />Of some imagined beam, <br />Than actual daylight over mortal walls. <br /> <br />A strain of music like the rushing wind, <br />But deep and sweet <br />As when the waters meet <br />In one mysterious harmony combined. <br /> <br />So swells the mighty organ, rich and full, <br />As if it were the soul <br />Which raised the glorious whole <br />Of that fair building, vast and wonderful. <br /> <br />Doth not the spirit feel its influence, <br />All vain and feverish care, <br />All thoughts that worldly are, <br />Strife, tumult, mirth, and fear are vanished hence. <br /> <br />The world is put aside, within the heart <br />Those hopes arise <br />Thrice sacred mysteries, <br />In which our earthly nature has no part. <br /> <br />Oh, Christian Fane, the soul expands in thee, <br />Thine altar and thy tomb <br />Speak of the hope and doom <br />Which leads and cheers man to eternity.<br /><br />Letitia Elizabeth Landon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-minister-2/
