Midnight
It has a ghostly sound too , lingering within the altar ; where it seems to chaunt , in its wild way , of Wrong and Murder done , and false Gods worshipped , in defiance of the Tables of the Law , which look so fair and smooth , but are so flawed and broken . Ugh ! Heaven preserve us , sitting snugly round the fire ! It has an awful voice , that wind at Midnight , singing in a church ! But , high up in the steeple ! There the foul blast roars and whistles ! High up in the steeple , where it is free to come and go through many an airy arch and loophole , and to twist and twine itself about the giddy stair , and twirl the groaning weathercock , and make the very tower shake and shiver !