With no peal Of bells to call them to the house of praise, The scattered settlers through green forest-ways Walked meeting-ward.

In reverent amaze The Indian trapper saw them, from the dim Shade of the alders on the rivulet's rim, Seek the Great Spirit's house to talk with Him.
There, through the gathered stillness multiplied And made intense by sympathy, outside The sparrows sang, and the gold-robin cried, A-swing upon his elm.

A faint perfume Breathed through the open windows of the room From locust-trees, heavy with clustered bloom.
Thither, perchance, sore-tried confessors came, Whose fervor jail nor pillory could tame, Proud of the cropped ears meant to be their shame, Men who had eaten slavery's bitter bread In Indian isles; pale women who had bled Under the hangman's lash, and bravely said God's message through their prison's iron bars; And gray old soldier-converts, seamed with scars From every stricken field of England's wars.
Lowly before the Unseen Presence knelt Each waiting heart, till haply some one felt On his moved lips the seal of silence melt.
Or, without spoken words, low breathings stole Of a diviner life from soul to soul, Baptizing in one tender thought the whole.
When shaken hands announced the meeting o'er, The friendly group still lingered at the door, Greeting, inquiring, sharing all the store Of weekly tidings.

Meanwhile youth and maid Down the green vistas of the woodland strayed, Whispered and smiled and oft their feet delayed.
Did the boy's whistle answer back the thrushes?
Did light girl laughter ripple through the bushes, As brooks make merry over roots and rushes?
Unvexed the sweet air seemed.

Without a wound The ear of silence heard, and every sound Its place in nature's fine accordance found.
And solemn meeting, summer sky and wood, Old kindly faces, youth and maidenhood Seemed, like God's new creation, very good! And, greeting all with quiet smile and word, Pastorius went his way.