thousand years ere Mary
begat her wond'rous Son,
The mighty monarch Solomon, declared the work begun
Scoured the world for Craftsmen, devoted to the art,
Bade them journey thither, to toil with loyal heart,
To lay the line, construct, design, and cut the barren
sod
To raise a superstructure to the glory of his God.
And seven years and upward, toiled they every one
`til dormer, porch and pavement shone resplendent in the
sun
And 'tween its mighty pillars, the righteous people came
To genuflect, with deep respect, and bless the glorious
name.
The wider world, in homage sought, to view the beauteous
scene
No finer sight could there exist, enthused fair Sheba's
queen,
Each hand-hewn stone, set fair, set square and of the
truest die
Spake 'glory hailleluja' to that architect on high
Whose gentle hands caress us all, from king to feckless
clown
With each disposed believer a jewel in his crown.
It is
not given every man to be a Jewish king,
With skill or will or wherewithal and rapt' rous voice to
sing,
To hail and laud almighty god and bless with wond'rous praise
His maker, mentor, master, all his lifelong days.
Yet all can build a temple, in the bosom of their soul
From lowly serf to mighty prince, that should be the goal,
No great wealth is needed, just the will to make it so,
A spiritual foundation can just as surely grow.
And if 'tis hid from mortal eyes, no matter chance dissent,
He, who knoweth everything, is graciously content
That man, made in his image, has heaven in his heart,
And being so, has Heav'n's power to play an awesome part
In bringing love, compassion to an oft confused scene,
Clothing mankind's imperfections with god's peace serene,
Man's own sanctum sanctorum, invisible, yet plain,
'Til in god's time, man confronts his maker, once again.
