AS I rode on my errand along,
I came where a prim little spire
Chimed out to the landscape a song,
And glowed in the sunset like fire.
Its cross beamed a beckoning ray,
And the home of my Mother I knew;
So I pressed to its portal to pray,
And my book from my bosom I drew.
How sweet was the service within,
And the plain rustic chaunt how sincere!
How welcome the pardon of sin,
And the kind parting blessing how dear!
And the parson--I knew not his name,
And the brethren--each face was unknown;
But the Church and the prayers were the same,
And my heart claimed them all for its own.
For I knew--in my own little nook,
That eve, the same Psalter was said,
And lessons, the same from the Book,
By my far-away darlings were read.
So I prayed, and went on in my way,
Blessed GOD for the Church He hath given;
My steed on his journey was gay;
So was I--on my journey to Heaven.