The Human Temple

The Temple in Darkness

Darkness broods upon the temple,  
Glooms along the lonely aisles,  
Fills up all the orient window,  
 Whence, like little children’s wiles,  
Shadows—purple, azure, golden—  
 Broke upon the floor in smiles.  
 
From the great heart of the organ  
 Bursts no voice of chant or psalm;  
All the air, by music-pulses  
 Stirred no more, is deathly calm;  
And no precious incense rising,  
 Falls, like good men’s prayer, in balm.  
 
Not a sound of living footstep  
 Echoes on the marble floor;  
Not a sigh of stranger passing  
 Pierces through the closèd door;  
Quenched the light upon the altar:  
 Where the priest stood, none stands more.  
 
Lord, why hast Thou left Thy temple  
 Scorned of man, disowned by Thee!  
Rather let Thy right hand crush it,  
 None its desolation see!  
List—‘He who the temple builded  
 Doth His will there. Let it be!’  
 
A Light in the Temple

Lo, a light within the temple!  
 Whence it cometh no man knows;  
Barred the doors: the night-black windows  
 Stand apart in solemn rows,  
All without seems gloom eternal,  
 Yet the glimmer comes and goes—  
 
As if silent-footed angels  
 Through the dim aisles wandered fair,  
Only traced amid the darkness,  
 By the glory in their hair,  
Till at the forsaken altar  
 They all met, and praised God there.  
 
Now the light grows—fuller, clearer;  
 Hark, the organ ’gins to sound.  
Faint, like broken spirit crying  
 Unto Heaven from the ground;  
While the chorus of the angels  
 Mingles everywhere around.  
 
See, the altar shines all radiant,  
 Though no mortal priest there stands,  
And no earthly congregation  
 Worships with uplifted hands:  
Yet they gather, slow and saintly,  
 In innumerable bands.  
 
And the chant celestial rises  
 Where the human prayers have ceased:  
No tear-sacrifice is offered,  
 For all anguish is appeased,  
Through its night of desolation,  
 To His temple comes the Priest.