Wisdom hath built herself a house, and hewn
From Seven Pillars Heaven’s dwelling-place;
On time’s vast arc the star has mounted noon,
As man’s bleak day unfolds to boundless grace.
Long years ago, our kings had lined with gold
A temple, presage of God’s living Fane;
There came a cloud that unto us foretold
His dwelling in a chancel without stain,
The everlasting Temple, one not lined,
But through and through Most Holy, skin to core,
Nor was she ever to be called “refined”
Whose purity was never mixed with ore.
Here none may enter, save to Truth disposed,
Where God, and all God’s treasures, are enclosed.
From Sonnets for Heaven’s Queen © Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.
