1 Where ancient forests widely spread,
Where bends the cataract's ocean-fall;
On the lone mountain's silent head,
There are Thy temples, God of all!

2 The tombs Thine altars are; for there,
When earthly loves and hopes have fled,
To Thee ascends the spirit's prayer,
Thou God of the immortal dead!

3 All space is holy, for all space
Is filled by Thee; -- but human thought
Burns clearer in some chosen place,
Where Thine own words of love are taught.

4 Here be they taught; and may we know
That faith Thy servants knew of old,
Which onward bears, through weal or woe,
Till death the gates of heaven unfold.

5 Nor we alone; may those whose brow
Shows yet no trace of human cares
Hereafter stand where we do now,
And raise to Thee still holier prayers.