Yet , in spite of this connection with human interests , what a moral loneliness on week-days broods round about its stately height ! It has no kindred with the houses above which it towers ; it looks down into the narrow thoroughfare -- the lonelier because the crowd are elbowing their passage at its base . A glance at the body of the church deepens this impression . Within , by the light of distant windows , amid refracted shadows we discern the vacant pews and empty galleries , the silent organ , the voiceless pulpit and the clock which tells to solitude how time is passing . Time -- where man lives not -- what is it but eternity ? And in the church , we might suppose , are garnered up throughout the week all thoughts and feelings that have reference to eternity , until the holy day comes round again to let them forth . Might not , then , its more appropriate site be in the outskirts of the town , with space for old trees to wave around it and throw their solemn shadows over a quiet green ? We will say more of this hereafter . But on the Sabbath I watch the earliest sunshine and fancy that a holier brightness marks the day when there shall be no buzz of voices on the Exchange nor traffic in the shops , nor crowd nor business anywhere but at church . Many have fancied so . For my own part , whether I see it scattered down among tangled woods , or beaming broad across the fields , or hemmed in between brick buildings , or tracing out the figure of the casement on my chamber floor , still I recognize the Sabbath sunshine . And ever let me recognize it ! Some illusions -- and this among them -- are the shadows of great truths . Doubts may flit around me or seem to close their evil wings and settle down , but so long as I imagine that the earth is hallowed and the light of heaven retains its sanctity on the Sabbath -- while that blessed sunshine lives within me -- never can my soul have lost the instinct of its faith . If it have gone astray , it will return again . I love to spend such pleasant Sabbaths from morning till night behind the curtain of my open window . Are they spent amiss ? Every spot so near the church as to be visited by the circling shadow of the steeple should be deemed consecrated ground to-day . With stronger truth be it said that a devout heart may consecrate a den of thieves , as an evil one may convert a temple to the same . My heart , perhaps , has no such holy , nor , I would fain trust , such impious , potency .
It must suffice that , though my form be absent , my inner man goes constantly XXXXX church , while many whose bodily presence fills the accustomed seats have left their souls at home .
For With above around as by into on to whether