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There’s a Temple of God in tales of the past,
I see through the mists of historical years.
And my heart through the veil of its mysteries vast
Is filled with the vision of numberless spheres.
Revealing my failure to build temples to last
Through the age after age that before me appears.
With the stars of my God ever shining above,
And the tools of my calling at hand,
I will build me a temple of glorious love,
With the arch of my Masonry spanned.
And the Spirit of God coming down from above
Will comfort my soul with His wand.
There’s a Mountain of God in each of our hearts
For that temple’s enduring base.
And the work we may do by a Mason’s arts
Will this solid foundation embrace.
And within it’s a spirit that never departs
Nor will ever the temple disgrace.
Through the beautiful aisles of the glorious past
Will its wonderful harmonies swell,
When the dead shall arise at Gabriel’s blast
From the grave’s most darkening cell,
Then the lot of the true will no longer be cast
With the false he ought to repel.
“The cedars of Lebanon grow at our door,
The quarries are found at our gate,
The ships out of Ophir with golden ore,
For our summoning mandate wait,”
Then let us get busy (day soon’ll be o’er)
And the house of our soul we’ll create.
While the light is still with use, the light should be used
For the night we cannot control.
Or ever the silver cord be loosed,
Or be broken the golden bowl,
May we build the Temple we never can lose
For the dwelling place of our soul.
Charles Clyde Hunt
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