I love the church —her standards,
her silver vessels, her candelabras,
her lights, her icons, her pulpit.
When I enter the Greek church:
with the fragrance of the incense,
with the liturgic chaunts,
with the majestic presences of the priests
and the solemn rhythm of all their movements—
they are magnificently robed in the holy vestments—
my thoughts go back to a great splendour of our race,
to our glorious Byzantine age.
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