THE LORD'S CATHEDRAL.

THE sea is the Lord's cathedral.

Its dome is the vault on high;

The columns that support it

Are the mountains which touch the sky.

The carvings that adorn it

In the changing clouds are wrought;

The incense that breathes throughout it

By the southern winds is brought

Its altar is built of icebergs;

Of snow are its drapings white;

The waxen candles upon it

Are the streamers of Northern Light,

The sun is the priest who serves it

In his vestment of gold-tinged cloud.

The prayer that he offers before it

In the whirlwind he mutters aloud.

And man, in its contemplation,

Bends lowly to the ground,

To worship the Master Mason,

As seen in his works around.