A Builder builded a temple,
He wrought it with grace and skill;
Pilllars and groins and arches
All fashioned to work his will.
Men said, as they saw its beauty,
"It shall never know decay;
Great is thy skill, O Builder!
Thy fame shall endure for aye."
A Mother builded a temple
With loving and infinite care,
Planning each arch with patience,
Laying each stone with prayer.
None praised her unceasing efforts,
None knew of her wondrous plan,
For the temple the Mother builded
Was unseen by the eyes of man.
Gone is the Builders temple,
Crumpled into the dust;
Low lies each stately pillar,
Food for consuming rust,
But the temple the Mother builded
Will last while ages roll,
For that beautiful unseen temple
Was
a
child's
immortal
soul.
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