House of Prayer

The Comforter does not confine Himself

To a holy cloister,

Nor confide in a chosen few.

His voice vibrates in a joyous chorus

Over all the crests of the cosmic seas.

His silvered lace embroiders every shore.

He buoys each warbling bird,

Cools each desert rock with twilight touch,

Sings the psalms of every

Winter's storm become spring,

Smiles with rainbows in uncounted skies,

Thrusts through every rockslide

With tender shoots,

Adorns endless prospects

With emeralds and pearls,

Blesses each nuptial bed,

Cherishes each child,

Fills goblets never-emptying.

The boundless heavens are His House of Prayer,

And each gladdened being is His gospel.