No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung, Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung. Majestic silence. - Reginald Heber

Beneath our feet and o'er our head Is equal warning given: Beneath us lie the countless dead, Above us is the heaven! Death rides on every passing breeze, And lurks in every flower; Each season has its own disease, Its peril every hour.

From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand.
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile.