| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | In Ecclesia | | By Adeline Treadwell (Parsons) Lunt |
| | | IN some great silent church I love to sit | |
| Before the little flock is gathered in, | |
| Before the choristers their chants begin, | |
| Or yet the white-robed priest has entered it; | |
| Where Peace—a hovering angel—seems to flit, | 5 |
| Beyond the turmoil of the world’s tired din, | |
| Beyond the sight of worldliness and sin, | |
| And Silence breathes its music exquisite. | |
| Here Meditation finds its purest place, | |
| And Sorrow lingers, feeling comfort sure, | 10 |
| And even Pleasure pauses to win grace | |
| From these delightsome courts and pavements pure. | |
| So in the silent church I love to wait, | |
| Remembering this, Heaven opens here its gate. | | | | |
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