When even the chosen of Levi, though skill'd
To minister, standing before Thee,
Retir'd from the cloud which the temple then fill'd,
And thy glory made Israel adore Thee:
Though awfully grand was thy Majesty then;
Yet the worship thy gospel discloses,
Less splendid in pomp to the vision of men,
Far surpasses the ritual of Moses.
And by whom was the ritual for ever repeal'd?
But by Him, unto whom it was given
To enter the Oracle, where is reveal'd,
Not the cloud but the brightness of Heaven.
Who, having once enter'd, hath shown us the way,
O Lord! how to worship before Thee;
Not with shadowy forms of that earlier day;
But in spirit and truth to adore Thee!
This, this is the worship the Saviour made known,
When she, of Samaria, found him
By the patriarch's well, sitting weary, alone,
With the stillness of noon-tide around him.
How sublime, yet how simple the homage he taught
To her, who inquir'd by that fountain,
If JEHOVAH at Solyma's shrine would be sought?
Or ador'd on Samaria's mountain.
Woman, believe me, the hour is near,
When he, if ye rightly would hail him,
Will neither be worship'd exclusively here,
Nor yet at the altar of Salem.
For God is a Spirit! and they, who aright
Would perform the pure worship he loveth,
In the heart's holy temple will seek, with delight,
That Spirit the Father approveth.
And many that prophecy's truth can declare,
Whose bosoms have livingly known it;
Whom God hath instructed to worship him
there,
And convinc'd that his mercy will own it.
The temple that Solomon built to his name,
Now lives but in history's story;
Extinguish'd long since, is its altar's bright
flame,
And vanish'd each glimpse of its glory.