The Cloisters: The Collect for the Day

And let me, loving still of thee to learn,
Thy weekly Collect on my spirit wear,
That so my steps may turn to practice clear,
And 'scape those ways where feverish fancies burn ;
So may thy Sunday thoughts at every turn
Meet us, like healthful founts in Elim green,
Casting a freshness o'er the week. This scene
Of outward things, as still the wheels return,
Leads sternly to decay : thou ever true,
As on the grave and withering age we gain,
Thy tale of better things dost still renew,
Like tune that pleas'd our childhood's pensive ear
Still as we older grow 'tis doubly dear,
Aye wakening echoes new, and deep and deeper strain.