Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
The Winged Worshippers
By Charles Sprague (1791–1875)G
What seek ye from the fields of heaven?
Ye have no need of prayer,
Ye have no sins to be forgiven.
Where mortals to their Maker bend?
Can your pure spirits fear
The God ye never could offend?
The crimes for which we come to weep.
Penance is not for you,
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep.
To wake sweet Nature’s untaught lays,
Beneath the arch of heaven
To chirp away a life of praise.
Far, far above, o’er lakes and lands,
And join the choirs that sing
In yon blue dome not reared with hands.
To note the consecrated hour,
Teach me the airy way,
And let me try your envied power.
On upward wings could I but fly,
I’d bathe in yon bright cloud,
And seek the stars that gem the sky.
Through fields of trackless light to soar,
On nature’s charms to feed,
And Nature’s own great God adore.