A builder builded a temple,
He wrought it with grace and skill,
Pillars and groins and arches
All fashioned to work his will,
And men said as they saw its beauty,
“It never shall know decay,
Great is thy skill, O builder!
Thy fame shall endure for age.”
A mother builded a temple
With infinite loving 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 eye of man.
Gone is the builder’s temple
Crumbled into the dust:
Low lies each stately pillar
Food for consuming rust.
But the temple the mother builded
Will last while the ages roll,
For that beautiful unseen temple
Was a child’s immortal soul.
--Hattie Vose Hall