My house is not a thing of wood or stone,
But consciousness of all-pervading Love.
Its firm foundation is the rock of Christ,
Whereon I hold my sacred, hourly tryst.
Its door is my receptiveness to good.
Its windows are my most unselfish prayers,
Translucent, letting in the light of Truth.
Its walls are aims uplifted, pure desires;
Its roof is apex rising to the height
Of understanding, to acknowledgment
Of Immanuel—"God with us"—here and now.
My dwelling is secure eternally.
Poems
My House
From the March 1952 issue of The Christian Science Journal
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