THE CHURCH OF UNBENT KNEES

As I went by the church to-day

I heard the organ cry;

And goodly folk were on their knees,

But I went striding by.

My minster hath a roof more vast:

My aisles are oak trees high;

My altar-cloth is on the hills,

My organ is the sky.

I see my rood upon the clouds,

The winds, my chanted choir;

My crystal windows, heaven-glazed,

Are stained with sunset fire.

The stars, the thunder, and the rain,

White sands and purple seas —

These are His pulpit and His pew,

My God of Unbent Knees!