The little church at Sitka─
It was so cool and still!
The doors stood open to the sea,
The wind went thro’ at will
And bore the kiss of brine and blue
To the far emerald hill.
The little church at Sitka─
It was so dim and sweet!
Along the curving, silver beach
We heard the soft waves beat;
We knelt alone─while Holiness
Went by on sandalled feet.
The pictured church at Sitka
That hangs upon my walls─
I turn and look, and ah, my heart!
The far sea pleads and calls;
The sunset reddens far─and then─
Night’s darkening shadow falls.
Ah, little church at Sitka!
If I might kneel to-day
Within thy dim and sea-sweet aisles,
With trembling lips to pray
For my heart’s deep and sweet desire─
Could God still answer “Nay”?
“The Little Church at Sitka” as it appears in Higginson’s The Vanishing Race (1911).