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Letitia Elizabeth Landon - The Minister
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DIM thro` the sculptured aisles the sunbeam falls 
	More like a dream
	Of some imagined beam,
	Than actual daylight over mortal walls.

	A strain of music like the rushing wind,
	But deep and sweet
	As when the waters meet
	In one mysterious harmony combined.

	So swells the mighty organ, rich and full,
	As if it were the soul
	Which raised the glorious whole
	Of that fair building, vast and wonderful.

	Doth not the spirit feel its influence,
	All vain and feverish care,
	All thoughts that worldly are,
	Strife, tumult, mirth, and fear are vanished hence.

	The world is put aside, within the heart
	Those hopes arise
	Thrice sacred mysteries,
	In which our earthly nature has no part.

	Oh, Christian Fane, the soul expands in thee,
	Thine altar and thy tomb
	Speak of the hope and doom
	Which leads and cheers man to eternity.
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