Enter the cathedral, where the pews are made of pine,
Where saints with golden halos think deep thoughts of the Divine,
Where dogwoods offer incense on ewers soaked in dew,
And penitents in scarlet robes humbly shuffle through.
Enter the cathedral, where reverence abides
Amongst the trembling aspens with their young ones at their sides;
Sunlight streams though windowpanes
Of orange, gold and green,
Altars knit of pristine clouds float softly in between.
Enter the cathedral, feel the hush of holy breeze,
Worship where the trickling brook brings grasses to their knees,
Where fireweed and goldenrod bow fluffy heads in prayer;
Enter the cathedral, you will find Your Maker there.