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.