of wealth would build some glorious fane from foundation to turret, and those whose means were less abundant would furnish a pillar, a transept, or a choir: each man felt a paternal interest in his work; while he lived he delighted to visit it, and watch its progress; when he died, his mortal remains were laid beneath the roof which he had raised, in hope of His coming, whose promise had called forth his bounty. Thus did church architecture arise, and thus was it perfected. Men knew that they were building, not for man, but for the glory of His name, who had furnished for them this spacious earth in its beauty and abundance, and who was gone to prepare for them mansions in heaven; and therefore none could endure that their work should yield in magnificence to that of another. Nation vied with nation, city with city; the news of an improvement was borne from one shore to another; and if some new beauty was introduced in one country, it was so quickly imitated in others and spread over the whole of Christendom, that the place of its origin became doubtful; and as the stars break out at once in every quarter of the sky, it seemed to have arisen everywhere by one simultaneous impulse.
And let us not say that these were ages of superstition, and that our churches are for use, not for ornament. For we too may well desire, with holy David, to "worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;" nor can we forget that He whom
