“Which now men lose, through looking back
  To find it at the stake and rack: 

  “The rack and stake have gathered grime: 
  God’s touchstone is the passing time.”

  —­Just then, amid some olive-sprays,
  Two orioles perched, and piped their lays,

  Until the gold beneath their throats
  Shook molten in their mellow notes.

  Then, pealing from the church, a psalm
  Rolled forth upon the outer calm.

  “Both choirs,” said I, “are in accord;
  For both give worship to the Lord.”

  Said he, “The tree-top song, I fear,
  Fled first and straightest to God’s ear.

  “If men bind other men in chains,
  Then chant, doth God accept the strains?

  “Do loud-lipped hymns His ear allure?—­
  God hates the church that harms the poor!”

  —­Then rose a meeting-house in view,
  Of bleached and weather-beaten hue,

  Where, plain of garb and pure of heart,
  Men kept the church and world apart,

  And sat in waiting for the light
  That dawns upon the inner sight;

  Nor did they vex the silent air
  With any sound of hymn or prayer;

  But on their lips God’s hand was pressed,
  And each man kissed it and was blessed.

  I asked, “Is this the true church, then?”
  “Nay,” answered he, “a sect of men: 

  “And sects that lock their doors in pride
  Shut God and half His saints outside.

  “The gates of heaven, the Scriptures say,
  Stand open wide by night and day: 

  “Whoso shall enter hath no need
  To walk by either church or creed: 

  “The false church leadeth men astray;
  The true church showeth men the way.”

  —­Whereat I still more eager grew
  To shun the false and find the true;

  And, naming all the creeds, I sought
  What truth, or lie, or both, they taught: 

  Thus,—­“Augustine—­had he a fault?”
  My friend looked up to yon blue vault,

  And cried, “Behold! can one man’s eyes
  Bound all the vision of the skies?”

  I said, “The circle is too wide.” 
  “God’s truth is wider,” he replied;

  “And Augustine, on bended knee,
  Saw just the little he could see;

  “So Luther sought with eyes and heart,
  Yet caught the glory but in part;

  “So Calvin opened wide his soul,
  Yet could not comprehend the whole: 

  “Not Luther, Calvin, Augustine,
  Saw half the vision I have seen!”

  —­Then grew within me a desire
  That kindled like a flame of fire.

  I looked upon his reverent brow,
  Entreating, “Tell me, who art thou?”

  When, by the light that filled the place,
  I knew it was the Lord’s own face!

  Through all my blood a rapture stole
  That filled my body and my soul.