As I went by the church today
    I heard the organ cry,
And goodly folk were on their knees
    But I went striding by.

My minster hath a roof more vast:
    My aisles are oak trees high,
My altar-cloth is on the hills,
    My organ is the sky.

I see my rood upon the clouds,
    The winds, my chanted choir;
My crystal windows, heaven-glazed,
    Are stained with sunset fire.

The stars, the thunder, and the rain,
    White sands and purple seas—
These are His pulpit and His Pew,
    My God of Unbent Knees!