Ivied walls will never make me bow,
Nor stained glass windows awe me into service;
Great gothic arches won't make me kowtow,
Nor can a flying buttress make me nervous.
My faith is deeper than aesthetic choice,
And high-flung architecture is too low
To shield me from the sound of my god's voice
Telling me who I am, what I should know
And what I ought to do about it. I
Am not intimidated by such things,
Though I admire spires in the sky,
Or vaults that seem raised up on angels' wings.
My faith is in a book, and that can be
Read wherever I have company.
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