The hands of wisdom build my house;
In consciousness it is designed
To stand secure upon the rock,
To glorify the might of Mind.
And holy beauty lends her hands,
Unveils perfection's purity
In strength of line, in colors rare,
In forms of grace and symmetry.
The building is with living stones
Of prayer, of praise, impartial love,
Undaunted hope, unchanging faith,
Eternal builders from above.
Naught enters here that can defile,
No thief, or lie of sin and fear;
No ignorance, whate'er the mask,
Can touch where Truth is shining clear.
As Jacob wrestled and prevailed,
A prince with power named anew,
So in this house I strive to see
The daybreak—dawn's irradiant view.
My habitation—holiness—
Wherein I wait for Love's commands,
Reflection of my Father's house
Eternal—builded without hands.
