TEMPLE.
The Lord is in His holy temple, the Lord’s throne is in heaven.—Psalm xi. 4.
One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in His temple.—Psalm xxvii. 4.
And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven.
And I saw no temple therein; for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it.—Revelation, xxi. 2, 22.
Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towering head, and lift thine eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks, on every side arise,
Discarding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend.
Pope.
’Twas thee
The almighty chose among the sons of men,
To dedicate a temple to His name,
Where He whose awful presence fills the vast
Immensity of space, who makes the clouds
His chariot, rides sublime the whirlwind’s wing,
And guides the raging storm, would deign to dwell,
And make His presence known. The exalted task
Thy wisdom worthily performed.
William Hodson.
The groves were God’s first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the root above them,—ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.
W. C. Bryant.
O Thou, to whom, in ancient time,
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung,
Whom kings adored in songs sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue.
Not now, on Zion’s height alone,
The favoured worshipper may dwell,
Nor where, at sultry noon, Thy Son
Sat, weary, by the Patriarch’s well.
From every place below the skies,
The grateful song, the fervent prayer—
The incense of the heart—may rise
To heaven, and find acceptance there.
In this Thy house, whose doors we now
For social worship first unfold,
To Thee the suppliant throng shall bow,
While circling years on years are roll’d.
To Thee shall age, with snowy hair,
And strength and beauty, bend the knee,
And childhood lisp, with reverend air,
Its praises and its prayers to Thee.
O Thou, to whom in ancient time,
The lyre of prophet bards was strung,
To Thee, at last, in every clime,
Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.
Pierpont.
And now the assembled Hosts advance, and glow
Into a hymn as they ascend the hill,
In numbers without number, singing so.
“Glad was I when they said to me, we will
Go up into the Temple of the Lord;
Lo, we shall dwell in Salem.”
Thus, until
They reached the sacred gates, did they record
Their raptures in no mortal verse; their strain
Of higher mood they raised and bolder word.
J. A. Heraud.
In a temple fair to see,
Gracious Lord, we worship Thee:
Meet it is that we should come
Duly to the hallowed dome;
Kneel, and pray, our sins confessing,
Asking—hoping for Thy blessing.
Egone.