Sonnet Variation: William Wordsworth's "Seathwaite Chapel"
Sacred Religion! 'mother of form and fear',
the natural issue of true respect,
without which love of man is slowly wrecked,
you weigh like worlds upon the worshipper.
You are too much for those who sojourn here,
yet not enough; we cannot protect
both ourselves and your charge with sure effect;
and in this dark and holy atmosphere
beneath the throne of the Ancient of Days,
we learn of mysteries we never knew
and find ourselves in Heaven's retinue,
doing things beyond all heroic lays,
not knowing how. But the splendor that drew
cannot but wrench from us undying praise.
