And yet there is, at worst, one Liturgy which does remain forever unexceptionable: that of _Praying_ (as the old Monks did withal) _by Working._ And indeed the Prayer which accomplished itself in special chapels at stated hours, and went not with a man, rising up from all his Work and Action, at all moments sanctifying the same,--what was it ever good for? 'Work is Worship:' yes, in a highly considerable sense,--which, in the present state of all 'worship,' who is there that can unfold! He that understands it well, understands the Prophecy of the whole Future; the last Evangel, which has included all others. Its cathedral the Dome of Immensity,--hast thou seen it? coped with the star-galaxies; paved with the green mosaic of land and ocean; and for altar, verily, the Star-throne of the Eternal! Its litany and psalmody the noble acts, the heroic work and suffering, and true Heart- utterance of all the Valiant of the Sons of Men. Its choir-music the ancient Winds and Oceans, and deep-toned, inarticulate, but most speaking voices of Destiny and History,--supernal ever as of old. Between two great Silences: 'Stars silent rest o o'er us, Graves under us silent!' Between which two great Silences, do not, as we said, all human Noises, in the naturalest times, most preternaturally march and roll?-- I will insert this also, in a lower strain, from Sauerteig's _Aesthetische Springwurzel._ 'Worship?' says he: 'Before that inane tumult of Hearsay filled men's heads, while the world lay yet silent, and the heart true and open, many things were Worship! To the primeval man whatsoever good came, descended on him (as, in mere fact, it ever does) direct from God; whatsoever duty lay visible for him, this a Supreme God had prescribed. To the present hour I ask thee, Who else? For the primeval man, in whom dwelt Thought, this Universe was all a Temple; Life everywhere a Worship.