Sunday at Home

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

纳撒尼尔·霍桑 著

Every Sabbath morning in the summer time I thrust back the curtain, to watch the sunrise stealing down a steeple, which stands opposite my chamber-window. First, the weathercock begins to flash; then, a fainter lustre gives the spire an airy aspect; next it encroaches on the tower, and causes the index of the dial to glisten like gold, as it points to the gilded figure of the hour. Now, the loftiest window gleams, and now the lower. The carved framework of the portal is marked strongly out.

每逢夏日的安息日清晨，我便拉开窗帘，望着朝阳的光辉悄悄爬下我卧室窗户对面那座尖塔。起初，风信鸡先闪起微光；接着一抹淡淡的辉光给尖顶添上几分轻盈之态；随后光辉渐渐漫过塔身，使日晷的指针闪耀如金，正指向镀金的时刻标记。此刻，最高处的窗户开始发亮，随即较低处的窗户也亮了起来。门廊上雕饰的木框，此时也被勾勒得分外清晰。

At length, the morning glory, in its descent from heaven, comes down the stone steps, one by one; and there stands the steeple, glowing with fresh radiance, while the shades of twilight still hide themselves among the nooks of the adjacent buildings. Methinks, though the same sun brightens it every fair morning, yet the steeple has a peculiar robe of brightness for the Sabbath.

终于，这缕晨曦仿佛从天而降，一级一级地沿着石阶落下来；于是尖塔便在那里矗立着，通体焕发着新鲜的光彩，而暮色的阴影却仍藏匿在附近建筑物的角落里，迟迟不肯散去。我常想，虽说同一轮太阳每个晴朗的早晨都会照亮它，可到了安息日，这座尖塔似乎总披着一件独属于这一天的光辉外衣。

By dwelling near a church, a person soon contracts an attachment for the edifice. We naturally personify it, and conceive its massive walls and its dim emptiness to be instinct with a calm, and meditative, and somewhat melancholy spirit. But the steeple stands foremost, in our thoughts, as well as locally. It impresses us as a giant, with a mind comprehensive and discriminating enough to care for the great and small concerns of all the town. Hourly, while it speaks a moral to the few that think, it reminds thousands of busy individuals of their separate and most secret affairs.

住在教堂附近久了，人自然而然会对这座建筑生出一份眷恋之情。我们不由自主地把它当作有生命之物，觉得它厚重的墙壁与幽暗空荡的内部，仿佛跳动着一种平静、沉思、又略带忧郁的精神。可是在我们心目中，最突出的，无论从位置还是从意念上说，都是那座尖塔。它给我们的印象，宛如一位巨人，胸怀宽广、明察秋毫，足以照管全城大大小小的事务。每一个钟点，它一面向少数肯思索的人诉说着一句箴言，一面又提醒着成千上万忙碌的人，各自最隐秘的心事。

It is the steeple, too, that flings abroad the hurried and irregular accents of general alarm; neither have gladness and festivity found a better utterance, than by its tongue; and when the dead are slowly passing to their home, the steeple has a melancholy voice to bid them welcome. Yet, in spite of this connection with human interests, what a moral loneliness, on week-days, broods round about its stately height! It has no kindred with the houses above which it towers; it looks down into the narrow thoroughfare, the lonelier, because the crowd are elbowing their passage at its base. A glance at the body of the church deepens this impression.

也正是这座尖塔，把仓促而参差的警报之声传遍四方；欢庆与喜乐，也从未有过比它的钟舌更好的传达者；而当亡者缓缓归于他们最后的居所时，尖塔又发出一种忧伤的声音，向他们表示欢迎。然而，尽管它与人间万事有着这般千丝万缕的联系，可是到了平日，它那庄严的高处四周，却笼罩着一种何等的道义上的孤寂啊！它与它所俯瞰的那些房屋并无亲缘，只是俯视着底下狭窄的街道，而正因人群在它脚下摩肩接踵地穿行而过，它才显得愈发孤单。再看一眼教堂本身，这种印象便愈发深刻了。

Within, by the light of distant windows, amid refracted shadows, we discern the vacant pews and empty galleries, the silent organ, the voiceless pulpit, and the clock, which tells to solitude how time is passing. Time,—where man lives not,—what is it but eternity? And in the church, we might suppose, are garnered up, throughout the week, all thoughts and feelings that have reference to eternity, until the holy day comes round again, to let them forth. Might not, then, its more appropriate site be in the outskirts of the town, with space for old trees to wave around it, and throw their solemn shadows over a quiet green? We will say more of this, hereafter.

在里面，借着远处窗户透进的微光，在层层折射的阴影之中，我们看见的是空荡荡的座位、空无一人的楼廊、沉默的风琴、无声的讲坛，还有那座钟，正向着这一片寂寥诉说时光的流逝。时间——在无人居住之处——除了永恒，又是什么呢？我们不妨设想，在教堂里，整整一周之中，凡与永恒有关的一切思绪与情感，都被珍藏起来，直到圣日再度来临，才让它们倾泻而出。既然如此，它是否更适合坐落在城郊，四周有古树摇曳环绕，把庄严的树荫洒落在一片静谧的草地之上呢？关于这一点，我们日后再谈。

But, on the Sabbath, I watch the earliest sunshine, and fancy that a holier brightness marks the day, when there shall be no buzz of voices on the exchange, nor traffic in the shops, nor crowd, nor business, anywhere but at church. Many have fancied so. For my own part, whether I see it scattered down among tangled woods, or beaming broad across the fields, or hemmed in between brick buildings, or tracing out the figure of the casement on my chamber-floor, still I recognize the Sabbath sunshine.

可是每逢安息日，我总要观望那最早的阳光，并且想象，这一天必有一种更为神圣的光辉，因为这一日，交易所里没有嘈杂的人声，店铺里没有买卖的喧嚣，除了教堂，哪里也没有人群，没有营生。许多人也曾这样想象过。至于我自己，无论看见阳光洒落在缠结的树林间，还是宽广地照耀在田野上，或是夹在砖砌的房屋之间，还是在我卧室的地板上勾勒出窗棂的图案，我总能认出，这就是安息日的阳光。

And ever let me recognize it! Some illusions, and this among them, are the shadows of great truths. Doubts may flit around me, or seem to close their evil wings, and settle down; but so long as I imagine that the earth is hallowed, and the light of heaven retains its sanctity, on the Sabbath,—while that blessed sunshine lives within me,—never can my soul have lost the instinct of its faith. If it have gone astray, it will return again.

但愿我永远能认出它来！有些幻象——这也是其中之一——正是伟大真理的影子。种种疑虑或许会在我周围盘旋，或者仿佛收拢起邪恶的双翼，落定下来；可是只要我还相信，大地是圣洁的，天堂之光在安息日仍保有它的神圣——只要那福佑的阳光仍活在我心中——我的灵魂便不会真正失去信仰的本能。纵使它一时迷失，终究还是会归来的。

I love to spend such pleasant Sabbaths, from morning till night, behind the curtain of my open window. Are they spent amiss? Every spot, so near the church as to be visited by the circling shadow of the steeple, should be deemed consecrated ground, to-day. With stronger truth be it said, that a devout heart may consecrate a den of thieves, as an evil one may convert a temple to the same. My heart, perhaps, has not such holy, nor, I would fain trust, such impious potency. It must suffice, that, though my form be absent, my inner man goes constantly to church, while many, whose bodily presence fills the accustomed seats, have left their souls at home.

我喜欢从清晨到夜晚，就这样待在敞开的窗帘后面，度过这样惬意的安息日。这样度过，算是虚度了吗？凡是离教堂足够近、能被尖塔环绕的阴影所触及的每一寸地方，在今天，都应当被视为圣洁之地。更确切地说，一颗虔诚的心，能够使盗贼的巢穴变得圣洁，正如一颗邪恶的心，也能把圣殿变得同样污浊。也许我的心，既没有那样圣洁的力量，我也乐意相信，也没有那样邪恶的力量。只需明白这一点便够了：尽管我的身形不在场，我内心的那个我，却始终不断地前往教堂，而许多人虽以肉身端坐在惯常的座位上，灵魂却早已留在家中。

But I am there, even before my friend, the sexton. At length, he comes,—a man of kindly, but sombre aspect, in dark gray clothes, and hair of the same mixture,—he comes and applies his key to the wide portal. Now my thoughts may go in among the dusty pews, or ascend the pulpit without sacrilege, but soon come forth again to enjoy the music of the bell. How glad, yet solemn too! All the steeples in town are talking together, aloft in the sunny air, and rejoicing among themselves, while their spires point heavenward.

可是我却比我的朋友，那位司事，到得更早。终于，他来了——一个神情和蔼却略显阴沉的人，穿着深灰色的衣服，头发也是同样的灰白掺杂——他走过来，把钥匙插进那扇宽大的门。这时，我的思绪不妨走进那些积满尘土的座位间，甚至登上讲坛也不算亵渎，但很快又退了出来，去享受钟声的音乐。多么欢快，却又多么庄严！全城的尖塔都在阳光灿烂的高空中彼此交谈，一同欢欣鼓舞，而它们的塔尖，都指向天空。

Meantime, here are the children assembling to the Sabbath school, which is kept somewhere within the church. Often, while looking at the arched portal, I have been gladdened by the sight of a score of these little girls and boys, in pink, blue, yellow, and crimson frocks, bursting suddenly forth into the sunshine, like a swarm of gay butterflies that had been shut up in the solemn gloom. Or I might compare them to cherubs, haunting that holy place.

与此同时，孩子们正聚集起来，准备去教堂里附设的主日学校。我常常望着那座拱形的门廊，看见二三十个这样的小男孩、小女孩，穿着粉红、天蓝、明黄和绯红色的小衣裳，忽然从那庄严阴沉之中，一齐涌入阳光里，宛如一群被关在幽暗中许久、如今终于放飞的彩蝶，心中不禁欢喜。又或者，我更愿意把他们比作在这圣地徘徊不去的小天使。

About a quarter of an hour before the second ringing of the bell, individuals of the congregation begin to appear. The earliest is invariably an old woman in black, whose bent frame and rounded shoulders are evidently laden with some heavy affliction, which she is eager to rest upon the altar. Would that the Sabbath came twice as often, for the sake of that sorrowful old soul! There is an elderly man, also, who arrives in good season, and leans against the corner of the tower, just within the line of its shadow, looking downward with a darksome brow. I sometimes fancy that the old woman is the happier of the two.

在第二次钟声响起前大约一刻钟，会众中的一些人开始陆续出现。总是最早到来的，是一位穿黑衣的老妇人，她佝偻的身躯、耸起的双肩，显然承受着某种沉重的苦难，急于把它卸在祭坛之上。但愿安息日能来得频繁一倍，就为了这位悲伤的老灵魂！还有一位上了年纪的男子，也总是及时到达，倚在塔角，正站在塔影的边缘，低垂着眉眼，面色阴沉地望着地面。我有时觉得，那位老妇人反倒比他快乐些。

After these, others drop in singly, and by twos and threes, either disappearing through the doorway or taking their stand in its vicinity. At last, and always with an unexpected sensation, the bell turns in the steeple overhead, and throws out an irregular clangor, jarring the tower to its foundation. As if there were magic in the sound, the sidewalks of the street, both up and down along, are immediately thronged with two long lines of people, all converging hitherward, and streaming into the church. Perhaps the far-off roar of a coach draws nearer,—a deeper thunder by its contrast with the surrounding stillness,—until it sets down the wealthy worshippers at the portal, among their humblest brethren.

在这两人之后，其余的人便陆续赶来，或独自一人，或三三两两，有的径直穿门而入，有的则在门口附近站定。终于，总是带着一种意想不到的震撼，头顶尖塔里的那口钟摆动起来，发出一阵参差不齐的轰鸣，震得整座塔基都为之一颤。仿佛这声响里含着某种魔力，街道两旁的人行道立刻挤满了两条长长的人流，全都朝这边汇聚而来，涌入教堂。也许远处传来一阵马车的隆隆声，越来越近——在四周的寂静衬托下，这声音显得格外沉重——直到它把富有的礼拜者，连同他们最贫寒的教友，一并放在了门前。

Beyond that entrance, in theory at least, there are no distinctions of earthly rank; nor indeed, by the goodly apparel which is flaunting in the sun, would there seem to be such, on the hither side. Those pretty girls! Why will they disturb my pious meditations! Of all days in the week, they should strive to look least fascinating on the Sabbath, instead of heightening their mortal loveliness, as if to rival the blessed angels, and keep our thoughts from heaven. Were I the minister himself, I must needs look.

一进那道门槛，至少在理论上，便再无人间尊卑之别；其实，就以那身在阳光下炫耀的华丽衣裳而论，在门这一侧，似乎也未见有什么等级之分。那些漂亮的姑娘啊！为什么偏要来扰乱我虔诚的沉思！在这一周所有的日子里，唯独在安息日，她们本该竭力显得最不引人注目才是，而不是刻意增添几分尘世的娇媚，仿佛要与那福佑的天使一争高下，把我们的心思从天堂拉了回来。倘若我是那位牧师本人，也必然忍不住要多看几眼。

One girl is white muslin from the waist upwards, and black silk downwards to her slippers; a second blushes from topknot to shoe-tie, one universal scarlet; another shines of a pervading yellow, as if she had made a garment of the sunshine. The greater part, however, have adopted a milder cheerfulness of hue. Their veils, especially when the wind raises them, give a lightness to the general effect, and make them appear like airy phantoms, as they flit up the steps, and vanish into the sombre doorway.

有一位姑娘，上半身是白色薄纱，下半身却是黑色丝绸，一直垂到她的软鞋；另一位姑娘从发髻到鞋带，通体绯红，一片鲜艳；还有一位周身泛着一种弥漫的黄色，仿佛用阳光织成了衣裳。不过大多数人，采用的都是较为柔和的明快色调。她们的面纱，尤其是被风吹起的时候，给整体添了几分轻盈，使她们看上去宛如一群飘忽的幽灵，一路飞掠上台阶，消失在那阴沉的门廊之中。

Nearly all—though it is very strange that I should know it—wear white stockings, white as snow, and neat slippers, laced crosswise with black ribbon, pretty high above the ankles. A white stocking is infinitely more effective than a black one.

几乎人人——虽说我竟会知道这个，实在有些奇怪——都穿着白色长袜，白得如雪，脚上是干净整洁的软鞋，用黑色缎带十字交叉系着，系得高出脚踝不少。一只白色长袜，效果要比黑色长袜出色得多。

Here comes the clergyman, slow and solemn, in severe simplicity, needing no black silk gown to denote his office. His aspect claims my reverence, but cannot win my love. Were I to picture Saint Peter, keeping fast the gate of heaven, and frowning, more stern than pitiful, on the wretched applicants, that face should be my study. By middle age, or sooner, the creed has generally wrought upon the heart, or been attempered by it. As the minister passes into the church, the bell holds its iron tongue, and all the low murmur of the congregation dies away.

牧师来了，步履缓慢、神情庄重，浑身透着一种严肃的简朴，无需黑色丝绸长袍来彰显他的身份。他的仪容令我心生敬畏，却难以赢得我的爱戴。倘若要我描摹圣彼得——把守天堂之门，对那些可怜的求门者，摆出一副与其说是怜悯、不如说是严厉的面孔——那么这张脸便该是我研究的范本。到了中年，或者更早一些，人的信条大抵已经磨炼了他的心，或者反被这颗心所磨炼软化。牧师步入教堂之时，那口钟便停住了它的铁舌，会众间低微的私语声，也随之渐渐消散。

The gray sexton looks up and down the street, and then at my window-curtain, where, through the small peephole, I half fancy that he has caught my eye. Now, every loiterer has gone in, and the street lies asleep in the quiet sun, while a feeling of loneliness comes over me, and brings also an uneasy sense of neglected privileges and duties. O, I ought to have gone to church! The hustle of the rising congregation reaches my ears.

那位灰发的司事，抬眼望望街道的这头，又望望那头，随后望向我的窗帘——透过那个小小的窥孔，我几乎觉得他与我四目相对。这时，每一个徘徊不去的人都已进了门，街道便沉睡在这一片静谧的阳光之中，一种孤寂之感向我袭来，也带来了一种不安，觉得自己荒废了本该珍视的权利与职责。哦，我本该去教堂才是！只听得会众起身的骚动之声，传入我的耳中。

They are standing up to pray. Could I bring my heart into unison with those who are praying in yonder church, and lift it heavenward, with a fervor of supplication, but no distinct request, would not that be the safest kind of prayer? "Lord, look down upon me in mercy!" With that sentiment gushing from my soul, might I not leave all the rest to Him?

他们正站起来祈祷。倘若我能让自己的心，与那边教堂里祈祷的人们同声一气，怀着一片虔诚祈求的热忱，把它高高举向天空，却不带任何具体的祈求，这难道不该是最稳妥的一种祈祷吗？“主啊，垂怜俯视于我！”只要这句话由衷地从我灵魂中涌出，我岂不是可以把其余的一切，都交托给他吗？

Hark! the hymn. This, at least, is a portion of the service which I can enjoy better than if I sat within the walls, where the full choir and the massive melody of the organ, would fall with a weight upon me. At this distance, it thrills through my frame, and plays upon my heartstrings, with a pleasure both of the sense and spirit. Heaven be praised, I know nothing of music, as a science; and the most elaborate harmonies, if they please me, please as simply as a nurse's lullaby. The strain has ceased, but prolongs itself in my mind, with fanciful echoes, till I start from my revery, and find that the sermon has commenced.

听！那赞美诗响起来了。这一部分礼拜，我坐在这里，反倒比坐在教堂的墙壁之内更能享受，因为在那里，齐全的唱诗班与风琴那浑厚的旋律，会沉甸甸地压在我身上。而在这样的距离之外，它却能穿透我的全身，拨动我的心弦，给我带来感官与心灵的双重愉悦。感谢上天，我对音乐这门学问一窍不通；因此，无论多么繁复精妙的和声，只要能打动我，便同保姆哄孩子的摇篮曲一样，单纯地打动着我。乐声已止，却仍在我心中萦绕回响，带着种种幻想般的余音，直到我从遐思中惊醒过来，才发现讲道已经开始了。

It is my misfortune seldom to fructify, in a regular way, by any but printed sermons. The first strong idea, which the preacher utters, gives birth to a train of thought, and leads me onward, step by step, quite out of hearing of the good man's voice, unless he be indeed a son of thunder. At my open window, catching now and then a sentence of the "parson's saw," I am as well situated as at the foot of the pulpit stairs.

我的一桩不幸，是很少能循规蹈矩地从任何讲道中获益，除非是印成文字的讲章。传道人所说出的第一个有力的想法，便会在我心中生出一连串思绪，一步一步把我引向别处，远远地不再听得见那位善人的声音，除非他真是一位声若雷霆的传道者。我坐在敞开的窗前，偶尔捕捉到一句“牧师的箴言”，所处的境地，倒也不比坐在讲坛台阶下差多少。

The broken and scattered fragments of this one discourse will be the texts of many sermons, preached by those colleague pastors,—colleagues, but often disputants,—my Mind and Heart. The former pretends to be a scholar, and perplexes me with doctrinal points; the latter takes me on the score of feeling; and both, like several other preachers, spend their strength to very little purpose. I, their sole auditor, cannot always understand them.

这一篇讲道支离破碎、散落各处的片段，日后都会成为许多篇布道的题材，由我那两位同僚牧师来讲——他们是同僚，却也常常彼此争辩——那便是我的“理智”与“心灵”。前者自诩为学者，用种种教义上的疑难来困扰我；后者则从情感的角度来打动我；而两者，同其他许多传道人一样，费尽力气，却收效甚微。而我，作为他们唯一的听众，却也并非总能听懂他们的话。

Suppose that a few hours have passed, and behold me still behind my curtain, just before the close of the afternoon service. The hour-hand on the dial has passed beyond four o'clock. The declining sun is hidden behind the steeple, and throws its shadow straight across the street, so that my chamber is darkened, as with a cloud. Around the church-door all is solitude, and an impenetrable obscurity beyond the threshold. A commotion is heard. The seats are slammed down, and the pew-doors thrown back,—a multitude of feet are trampling along the unseen aisles,—and the congregation bursts suddenly through the portal.

假设又过了几个小时，且看我依然坐在窗帘后面，恰在下午礼拜将要结束之际。日晷上的时针已过了四点。西斜的太阳已隐没在尖塔背后，把它的影子笔直投在街道对面，因此我的房间也随之暗了下来，宛如笼上了一层云翳。教堂门前一片寂寥，门槛之内更是深不可测的幽暗。忽然听得一阵骚动。座椅被啪地放下，座位间的门被猛然推开——无数脚步在看不见的过道里践踏而过——会众骤然从门廊里涌了出来。

Foremost, scampers a rabble of boys, behind whom moves a dense and dark phalanx of grown men, and lastly, a crowd of females, with young children, and a few scattered husbands. This instantaneous outbreak of life into loneliness is one of the pleasantest scenes of the day. Some of the good people are rubbing their eyes, thereby intimating that they have been wrapped, as it were, in a sort of holy trance, by the fervor of their devotion.

最先冲出来的，是一群蹦跳喧闹的男孩，紧随其后的，是一支密集而深色的成年男子的方阵，最后则是一群妇女，带着幼小的孩童，还有零零星星几位丈夫。这般由寂静骤然爆发出来的生机，正是这一天最赏心悦目的景象之一。有几位善良的教众，正揉着自己的眼睛，这仿佛在暗示，他们方才由于礼拜时的虔诚投入，竟仿佛陷入了某种圣洁的恍惚之中。

There is a young man, a third-rate coxcomb, whose first care is always to flourish a white handkerchief, and brush the seat of a tight pair of black silk pantaloons, which shine as if varnished. They must have been made of the stuff called "everlasting," or perhaps of the same piece as Christian's garments in the Pilgrim's Progress, for he put them on two summers ago, and has not yet worn the gloss off. I have taken a great liking to those black silk pantaloons. But, now, with nods and greetings among friends, each matron takes her husband's arm, and paces gravely homeward, while the girls also flutter away, after arranging sunset walks with their favored bachelors.

有一位年轻人，属于三流的纨绔子弟一类，头一件要紧事，永远是甩出一方白手帕，掸一掸那条紧绷的黑绸裤子的座位，那裤子光可鉴人，仿佛上过一层漆。想必是用那种名叫“万年布”的料子做的，又或者与《天路历程》里“基督徒”那身衣裳出自同一块布料，因为他两个夏天前就穿上了它，如今光泽却丝毫未褪。我对那条黑绸裤子，倒生出几分喜爱来。可是此刻，人们互相点头致意、寒暄问候，各位主妇挽起丈夫的臂膀，庄重地踏上归途，姑娘们也各自飘然而去，先与她们钟意的单身汉，约好了日落时分同去散步。

The Sabbath eve is the eve of love. At length, the whole congregation is dispersed. No; here, with faces as glossy as black satin, come two sable ladies and a sable gentleman, and close in their rear the minister, who softens his severe visage, and bestows a kind word on each. Poor souls! To them the most captivating picture of bliss in heaven is—"There we shall be white!"

安息日的傍晚，正是爱情的傍晚。终于，整个会众都散去了。不，等等——这里，两位面色黝黑光亮如黑缎的女士，还有一位同样肤色的绅士，正走过来，紧随其后的是牧师，他此刻放柔了那副严肃的面容，向每一个人都说上一句和气的话。可怜的灵魂啊！对他们而言，天堂之福最动人的图景，莫过于——“到了那里，我们也会变白！”

All is solitude again. But, hark!—a broken warbling of voices, and now, attuning its grandeur to their sweetness, a stately peal of the organ. Who are the choristers? Let me dream that the angels, who came down from heaven, this blessed morn, to blend themselves with the worship of the truly good, are playing and singing their farewell to the earth. On the wings of that rich melody they were borne upward.

一切又归于寂静。可是，听！——断断续续的歌声隐约传来，此刻，风琴那庄严的轰鸣，也随之调整了音色，与那柔美相应和。是谁在歌唱？就让我幻想，那些今天早晨从天上降临、来与真正虔诚之人的礼拜融为一体的天使，正在为尘世弹奏、歌唱着他们的告别之曲吧。乘着那丰美的旋律的双翼，他们被托举而上，冉冉升入天际。

This, gentle reader, is merely a flight of poetry. A few of the singing men and singing women had lingered behind their fellows, and raised their voices fitfully, and blew a careless note upon the organ. Yet, it lifted my soul higher than all their former strains. They are gone, the sons and daughters of music,—and the gray sexton is just closing the portal.

读者啊，这不过是我诗意的一时遐想。其实不过是几位歌咏班的男女，落在同伴身后，断断续续地放开歌喉，随意地在风琴上吹出一个音符罢了。可是，这声音却比他们先前所有的曲调，都更能把我的灵魂托举得更高。他们去了，那些音乐的儿女——而那位灰发的司事，正合上教堂的大门。

For six days more, there will be no face of man in the pews, and aisles, and galleries, nor a voice in the pulpit, nor music in the choir. Was it worth while to rear this massive edifice, to be a desert in the heart of the town, and populous only for a few hours of each seventh day?

此后整整六天，座位间、过道上、楼廊里，都不会再有人的面孔，讲坛上也不会再有声音，唱诗班里也不会再有乐音。耗费如此心力，建起这样一座庄严的殿堂，只为在这城市的中心留下一片荒芜，仅仅在每七日中的短短几个钟头里才热闹起来，这值得吗？

O, but the church is a symbol of religion! May its site, which was consecrated on the day when the first tree was felled, be kept holy forever, a spot of solitude and peace, amid the trouble and vanity of our week-day world! There is a moral, and a religion too, even in the silent walls. And may the steeple still point heavenward, and be decked with the hallowed sunshine of the Sabbath morn!

哦，可是这教堂，正是宗教的一个象征啊！愿它的地基——那是在第一棵树被砍倒的那一天便被奉为圣地的——永远保持神圣，在我们这平日纷扰虚浮的尘世之中，成为一处孤寂而安宁的所在！即便是在这寂静的墙壁之中，也自有一种道德，一种宗教。愿这尖塔，永远指向天空，永远披着安息日清晨那圣洁的阳光！