His builders wrought for Solomon,
And hewed the cedar trees;
They squared the beams in Lebanon,
And rafted them over-seas.
The quarrying-tools of Gebal’s men,
And Sidon’s axe-men are still;
The shaping-toil is over, and then
They build on the holy hill.
For there on Mount Moriah’s height,
Silent, the temple grows;
Great beams and stones are fitted aright,
Like petals in a rose.
So Love in hewing her costly stones
For the temple of brotherhood,
Must wound self-love till each man owns
His place in the whole of good.
Though clamor be loud in human lives
At the cleavage of pride and fear,
When the temple of brotherhood arrives
It will silently appear.
– William P. McKenzie, 1928
