THE sea is the Lord's cathedral.
Its dome is the vault on high;
The columns that support it
Are the mountains which touch the sky.
The carvings that adorn it
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In the changing clouds are wrought;
The incense that breathes throughout it
By the southern winds is brought
Its altar is built of icebergs;
Of snow are its drapings white;
The waxen candles upon it
Are the streamers of Northern Light,
The sun is the priest who serves it
In his vestment of gold-tinged cloud.
The prayer that he offers before it
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