A builder builded a temple, He wrought it with grace and skill; Pillars and groins and arches All fashioned to work his will. Men said, as they saw its beauty, "It shall never know decay; Great is thy skill, O Builder! Thy fame shall endure for aye."
A Mother builded a temple With loving and infinite 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 eyes of man.
Gone is the Builder's temple, Crumpled 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.