I thought of the splendors of
the Hebrew ritual and temple, instituted by God himself. I questioned
where was the text in the gospel that forbade such a ritual, provided
it were felt to be desirable; and then I thought of the ignorance and
stupid idolatry of those countries where this ritual is found in
greatest splendor, and asked whether these are the necessary
concomitants of such churches and such forms, or whether they do not
result from other causes. The Hebrew ritual, in a far more sensuous
age, had its sculptured cherubim, its pictorial and artistic wealth of
representation, its gorgeous priestly vestments, its incense, and its
chants; and they never became, so far as we know, the objects of
idolatrous veneration.
But I love to go back over and over the scenes of that cathedral; to
look up those arches that seem to me, in their buoyant lightness, to
have not been made with hands, but to have shot up like an
enchantment--to have risen like an aspiration, an impersonation of the
upward sweep of the soul, in its loftiest moods of divine communion.
There were about five minutes of feeling, worth all the discomforts of
getting here; and it is only for some such short time that we can
enjoy--then our prison door closes.
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