To a new entrance, thus enforced, a window they transform ;
Still is the shelter of the roof more welcome than the storm.
There at the patient pastor's feet gathered the little band
Of tried and faithful worshippers, no cushion but the sand.
There lifted they their hearts to Him who once in meekness
made
Himself the Son of man, and had not where to lay his head.
O child of wealth ! the portals high of a cathedral pile
Stand wide for thee, and thou dost sweep through the long
pillared aisle,
With dainty foot, and jewelled hand, in raiment rich and rare,
To rest on swelling velvet soft, through a brief hour of
prayer.
Yet to have faith like one of these, if thou but knew its
worth,
Thou'dst gladly give thy place for his upon the dusty earth.
And thou to whom the lines have fallen God's word to
minister
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