THE ALPS CATHEDRAL.
HE village church, its joyous bells Are ringing music chimes;Filling the air with floating verse, Like a poet with his rhymes.'Tis Sunday, and the villagers Their weekly toil lay by,To meet the day of holy rest, In bright festivity.
Yes! 'tis Sabbath in the valley, 'Tis Sabbath on the height;How solemn, deep, mysterious, is That Sabbath infinite.
There no rude jar, no earthly voice Rends the translucent air,But surpliced rocks of glittering snows Are priests who worship there.
