him! Nay, one venerable orthodox minister, still living, published a letter calling on the authorities of the commonwealth to send this young "blasphemer" to the State's prison for three years, according to law in such case made and provided!
So went it with ministers—and at Boston. Some of them were honest—theology had blinded their eyes. But other men and women gathered about me, a few at first—some of them ministers—upheld my hands and strengthened my heart, and in their consciousness I saw reflected the facts of my own. Now there are thousands, and voices from distant lands, speaking with other tongues, come o'er the sea with words of lofty cheer. No man in his day of trial had ever heartier, nobler friends—women and men.
Since that, my first attempt, I have had no part in any such ecclesiastical ceremony for fourteen years. Now you, all strangers to my voice, have asked me to come more than three hundred miles to rejoice with progressive friends in the first opening of this new commodious house. The lines have fallen to you in pleasant places. May the spirit of God filling houses made with hands, and transcending the heaven of heavens, dwell with you and bless you for ever and ever. May you
"——— aloft ascending, breathe in worlds
To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil.
All strength, all terror, single or in bands,
That ever was pat forth in personal form;
Jehovah—with his thunder, and the choir
Of shouting angels, and the empyreal thrones—
Them pass you unalarmed. Not chaos, not
The darkest pit of lowest Erebus,
Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out
By help of dreams, can breed such hopes and awe
As fall upon us often when we look
Into our minds—into the mind of man."
"Beauty—a living presence of the earth
Surpassing the most fair ideal forms
Which craft of delicate spirits hath composed
From earth's materials—waits upon your steps;
Pitches your tents before you as you move,
An hourly neighbour. Paradise, and groves
Elysian, fortunate fields—like those of old
Sought in th’ Atlantic main—why should they be
A history only of departed things,
Or a mere fiction of what never was?
For the discerning intellect of man,
When wedded to this goodly universe
