The Beautiful Gate

One built a temple for the Lord, his God,Of polished stone and cedar, gem-inlaid.'Twas thronged with worshipers of high and low degreeWho came through many gates, and bowed their heads in prayerWithin that house so beautiful.'Twas beautiful, indeed, the cunning workExpressing all the dream of him who built,Yet knew that God dwells notIn temples made with hands.The years had passed and on the siteAnother temple stood and called to prayer,And, in the gate called Beautiful,The stones were worn with many passing feet,But there was one whose feet were impotent,Who sat and begged without the house of prayer,And ever cried upon the worshipersFor alms to meet his dire necessity.But in his heart there slept a deeper need,The need to know himself the child of God,The need to enter in that holy place,Active and free and in the joy of God;And waking, it touched the Christly robeAnd drew resources of omnipotence,As to the followers of Jesus came the call,Asking an alms. So Peter turnedAnd saw that clamant need, and gaveOf that he had from Love divine, which meetsAll human need!Oh, beautiful that entry to the temple,The consciousness of ever-living good;And beautiful the joy of him who entered,Walking and leaping in the praise of God.But oh, most beautiful that love that, self-effacing,Can turn and gather in the brother man,Waiting, expectant of the Christly healing;With open hands receiving and still giving,So entering the temple, blessed and blessingAt the gate called Beautiful.

October 12, 1935
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