O Know Ye Not That Ye


O! know ye not that ye
The temple are of God?
Revere the earth-built shrine, where He
Should find a meet abode!

Immortal man, keep pure
Thyself, that mystic shrine;
Let hate of all that’s dark endure,
And love of all divine.

Let saintly thoughts be shown
In act by saintly things;
Like glories through the temple thrown,
From cherub’s curtained wings.

Let life, a holy stream,
Its fountain holy show;
Reflecting, with a softened gleam,
Heaven’s purity below.