The Temple of Nature
Talk not of temples; there is one,
Built without hands, to mankind given.
Its lamps are the meridian sun
And all the stars of heaven;
Its walls are the cerulean sky;
Its floor the earth so green and fair;
The dome is vast immensity,—
All nature worships there!
The Alps, arrayed in stainless snow,
The Andean ranges yet untrod,
At sunrise and at sunset glow
Like altar-fires to God!
A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze,
As if with hallowed victims rare;
And thunder lifts its voice in praise,—
All nature worships there!
The ocean heaves resistlessly,
And pours his glittering treasures forth;
His waves, the priesthood of the sea,
Kneel on the shell-gemmed earth,
And there emit a hollow sound,
As if they murmured praise and prayer;
On every side ’tis hallowed ground,—
All nature worships there!
The grateful earth her odours yield
In homage, Mighty One, to Thee,
From herbs and flowers in every field,
From fruit on every tree;
The balmy dew, at morn and even,
Seems like the penitential tear,
Shed only in the sight of Heaven,—
All nature worships there!
The cedar and the mountain pine,
The willow on the fountain’s brim,
The tulip and the eglantine,
In reverence bend to Him;
The song-birds pour their sweetest lays
From tower, and tree, and middle air;
The rushing river murmurs praise,—
All nature worships there!
Then talk not of a fane, save one,
Built without hands, to mankind given.
Its lamps are the meridian sun
And all the stars of heaven;
Its walls are the cerulean sky;
Its floor the earth so green and fair;
The dome is vast immensity,—
All nature worships there!
David Vedder.