Thine was no faith of pulseless form,
Of actor, acting well his role; Or deeming, through mere solemn rites,
To nourish the immortal soul, Nor thine that bare and stunted growth,
To limits of a sect confined; Expanding not in broader realm
Than atmosphere by man defined.
Nor thine that crude philosophy
Whose meteor-flash hath oft beguiled The traveller from clear mountain heights,
To perish on the misty wild. No gloomy cypress wreath for thee!
Oh brow unkenned of bigot frown! Fair coronet of laurel leaves;
Meet emblem of thy fadeless crown.

Bright as the pure, cerulean arch,
Thy faith all creeds and rites doth span And sees, through Love's refining lens,
The Deity in brother man. With active, humanizing power,
Uplifts the soul, low sunk in sin; Till, yielding to its tender touch,
The chains unbar—God enters in.