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 not such holy , nor , I would fain trust , such impious potency . It must suffice , that , though my form be absent , my inner man goes constantly to church , while many , whose bodily presence fills the accustomed seats , have left their souls at home . But I am there , even before my friend , the sexton . At length , he comes , -- a man of kindly , but sombre aspect , in dark gray clothes , and hair of the same mixture , -- he comes and applies his key to the wide portal . Now my thoughts may go in among the dusty pews , or ascend the pulpit without sacrilege , but soon come forth again to enjoy the music of the bell . How glad , yet solemn too ! All the steeples in town are talking together , aloft in the sunny air , and rejoicing among themselves , while their spires point heavenward . Meantime , here are the children assembling to the Sabbath school , which is kept somewhere within the church . Often , while looking at the arched portal , I have been gladdened by the sight of a score of these little girls and boys , in pink , blue , yellow , and crimson frocks , bursting suddenly forth into the sunshine , like a swarm of gay butterflies that had been shut up in the solemn gloom . Or I might compare them to cherubs , haunting that holy place . About a quarter of an hour before the second ringing of the bell , individuals of the congregation begin to appear . The earliest is invariably an old woman in black , whose bent frame and rounded shoulders are evidently laden with some heavy affliction , which she is eager to rest upon the altar . Would that the Sabbath came twice as often , for the sake of that sorrowful old soul ! There is an elderly man , also , who arrives in good season , and leans against the corner of the tower , just within the line of its shadow , looking downward with a darksome brow .
I sometimes fancy that the old woman is the happier XXXXX the two .
At against among around as in of that while within