The Altar

How fondly look'd I on the place,
Assign'd to rites of spousal love!
How holy seem'd that Board of Grace,
With Jesus blessing bread above!

'Twas bosom'd in a kindlier air,
Than the outer realms of care and dole;
A sense of Godhead brooded there,
Whose spell-like silence lull'd the soul.

And, though full oft the accents dear
Here utter'd, had been falsely fond;
Still they were breathed and plighted here,
And broken in a place beyond!