The Pillars of the Choir: St Bartholomew

Come forth, Nathanael, from the fig-tree's shade,
And see, where, down yon mountain's solemn glade,
The lowly Nazareth, in the summer even,
Shines in the sunbeams, like a gate of Heaven !
'Mid those poor walls, Heaven opens to thy prayer,
And Angels pass upon the crystal stair.

And who within that Tabernacle's light
Shall dwell, but thou, the guileless Israelite ?
Thine is the art of artless souls, true seer !
To know thy God in all things standing near.
Divine prerogative ! The blameless soul,
Its own simplicity, its sweet control,
Leads on, and, like a guardian spirit, brings
Into the palace of the King of kings,
The Mount of God. To Him all nature stirs,
Ranging herself in glowing characters ;
Seen thro' Faith's light'ning mirror, blooming skies
Come down on earth and sea, like vernal dyes,
Speaking of Resurrection ; — all are rife
And animate with forms of beauteous life,
Unseen before ; 'mid busiest scenes below,
The messengers of Mercy come and go.