Poems (Allen)/The New Temple

by Elizabeth Chase Allen

THE NEW TEMPLE.

OW shall we make a house of worth
Fit for the Builder of the earth,—
    A temple high and broad,
    A dwelling for our God?

Build the wide windows fair and high,—
Let in the light of sun and sky;
    Shut not the Master's face
    Out of His dwelling-place.

Make room for tender Charity,
And Love's unwearying ministry;
    Let Patience mild and meek
    Her gentle teachings speak.

Build all the doorway arches wide,
Yet make no room for pompous Pride,—
    So Vanity and Sin
    Shall never enter in.

Let not the false similitude
Of marble shame the honest wood;
    Let not Hypocrisy
    Within our temple be.

Let not the breath of worldly gain
Its sacred atmosphere profane;
    Let Mammon come not near
    The souls which worship here.

Let Bigotry, and Fear, and Doubt
Remain forevermore without;
    Let not their shadows fall
    Within its holy wall.

Lest, when the Christ—as once of yore
He entered at the temple door—
    Shall come to see how dim
    Our love has grown for him,—

To see how much of good and grace
We're gathered to His dwelling-place,
    He speak reproofs, as then,
    Against the sins of men,

And grieving, ask us, "Is it well
Within my house to buy and sell?
    Behold, my eye perceives
    Only a den of thieves!"

No! When, in answer to our prayer,
He comes and walks among us there,
    O, may we hear anew,
    "My peace I leave with you!

"For in this earthly house of mine
I feel my Father's presence shine;
    My children here alway
    Live even as they pray!"