As I went by the church to-day      I heard the organ cry; And goodly folk were on their knees,      But I went striding by. My minister hath a roof more vast:      My aisles are oak-trees high; My altar-cloth is on the hills,      My organ is the sky. I see my rood upon the clouds,      The winds, my chanted choir; My crystal windows, heaven-glazed,      Are stained with sunset fire. The stars, the thunder, and the rain,      White sands and purple seas – These are His pulpit and His pew,      My God of Unbent Knees!