Originally published in Douglas Jerrold's Shilling Magazine (Punch) vol.2 #7 (Jul 1845).
"Standing in St. Paul's, one is surprised by an aërial sound in the dome: it is the roar of London."
Amid the crowded city's ceaseless roll,
At morning, noon, and deepest midnight hours
Within this mighty Dome, as in a soul,
Whose spirit everlastingly adores,
Riseth a solemn song of echoing praise
To Him who leadeth on earth's chequered ways.
The pealing organ, at appointed time,
Sends forth her hymn to worshippers around;
The faithful clock, with sweet responsive chime,
Measures the days and years with tuneful sound;
But ever-living is this sacred song,
As years, and days, and moments roll along:
As on the sea-girt shore the wanderer hears
The choral hymn of ocean's rolling tide,
Where, amid storm and calm, the billow bears
Her constant symphony surrounding wide—
So, from the mighty City's joy and strife
Rises this deep, enduring song of life.