Dance, my heart:  O dance to-day with joy!
The hymn of Love filleth the days and the nights with music,
   and the world hearkeneth to the melody.

Mad with joy, Life and Death dance to the rhythm of this music.
The hills and the sea and the earth dance;
The world of man danceth in laughter and tears.

-- Ramakrishna (trans. S. Nikhilananada)
(in Poetry of the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

 . . . . Soon shall the song
   That rolls all down the ages blend its voice
With our weak utterance and make us strong;
   That we, borne forward still, may still rejoice,

Fronting the wave of change.  Thou who alone
   Changeless remainest, O most mighty Soul,
Hear us before we vanish!  O make known
   Thyself in us, us in Thy living whole.

-- Edward Carpenter
(in Poetry of the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

The harp at Nature's advent strung
   Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
   Has never died away.

And prayer is made, and praise is given,
   By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to heaven,
   And mirrors every star.
             . . .
The blue sky is the temple's arch,
   Its transept earth and air,
The music of its starry march
   The chorus of a prayer.

-- John Greenleaf Whittier
(in Poetry of the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)

He fumbles at your soul
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on.
He stuns you by degrees,
Prepares your brittle nature
For the ethereal blow
By fainter hammers further heard,
Then nearer, then so slow
Your breath has time to straighten,
Your brain to bubble cool,
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
That scalps your naked soul.

-- Emily Dickinson
(in Poetry for the Spirit, edited by Alan Jacobs)