Mary is not contented: to see the place is little comfort.

The church itself, with all its memories of the Lord, the gospel-story, and all theory about him, is but his tomb until we find himself.
_Come, see the place-where the Lord lay._ Show me himself, himself, bright sir! Oh show Which way my poor tears to himself may go.
Were it enough to show the place, and say, "Look, Mary; here see where thy Lord once lay;" Then could I show these arms of mine, and say, "Look, Mary; here see where thy Lord once lay." From one of eight lines, on the Mother Mary looking on her child in her lap, I take the last two, complete in themselves, and I think best alone.
This new guest to her eyes new laws hath given: 'Twas once _look up_, 'tis now _look down to heaven_.
And here is perhaps his best.
_Two went up into the Temple to pray_.
Two went to pray?
Oh rather say, One went to brag, the other to pray.
One stands up close, and treads on high, Where the other dares not lend his eye.
One nearer to God's altar trod; The other to the altar's God.
This appears to me perfect.

Here is the true relation between the forms and the end of religion.

The priesthood, the altar and all its ceremonies, must vanish from between the sinner and his God.

When the priest forgets his mediation of a servant, his duty of a door-keeper to the temple of truth, and takes upon him the office of an intercessor, he stands between man and God, and is a Satan, an adversary.