Once in the chancel of a church austere,
Upon the illumined altar-steps I prayed,
While near me knelt, in somber garb arrayed,
Hosts of repenting sinners thrilled with fear.

Without, the tempest swept by, swift and drear,
When suddenly a fiery and livid blade
Of lightning struck the shining spire, and laid
Its Gothic beauty shattered far and near!

And then the germs of doubt dawned in my soul,
Why, if God lived within this house to know
That suppliants bowed and dared to Him aspire,
Did He, with wrath and wondrous uncontrol,
Strike it to dust with His infuriate blow,
And mar its majesty with avenging fire?