There is religion in everything around us,
a calm and holy religion in the unbreathing things in Nature.
It is a meek and blessed influence,
Stealing in as It were unaware upon the
It comes quickly, and without
It has no
It does not rouse up the passions;
It is untrammelled by
It is written on the arched sky;
It looks out from every star;
It is in the sailing cloud and on the
It is among the hills and valleys of the Earth
Where the shrubless
the thin atmosphere of
Or where the mighty
bends before the strong wind,
With its dark waves of green foliage;
It is spread out like a legible language
upon the broad face of an unsleeping
It is the poetry of Nature
It is that which uplifts the spirit within us . . .
and which opens to our
a Earth of spiritual beauty and holiness.
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