It was not intended as a compliment. It was a confession… Perhaps one should never put one’s worship into words.
Basil distinguishes flattery from truth. He has named a love that can’t be reciprocated in kind, and now he wishes he hadn’t. “Worship” makes his feeling sound religious, which fits the moral stakes. Irony cuts through: speech that should heal only empties him. Wilde shows how saying the right thing at the wrong time can wound. The line captures the loneliness of honest affection. Devotion without a home turns inward and hurts.