Eastwards through busy streets I lingered on; br Jostled by anxious crowds, who, heart and brain, br Were so absorbed in dreams of Mammon-gain, br That they could spare no time to look upon br The sunset's gold and crimson fires, which shone br Blessing keen eyes and wrinkled brows in vain. br br Right in my path stood out that solemn Fane br Whose soaring cupola of stern grey stone br Lifteth for awful beacon to the sky br The burning Cross: silent and sole amid br That ceaseless uproar, as a pyramid br Isled in its desert. The great throngs pressed by br Heedless and urgent thus Religion towers br Above this sordid, restless life of ours.