1 O! know ye not that ye The temple are of God? Revere the earth-built shrine, where He Should find a meet abode! 2 Immortal man, keep pure Thyself, that mystic shrine; Let hate of all that's dark endure, And love of all divine. 3 Let saintly thoughts be shown In act by saintly things; Like glories through the temple thrown, From cherub's curtained wings. 4 Let life, a holy stream, Its fountain holy show; Reflecting, with a softened gleam, Heaven's purity below.
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