My body is the temple of my God, For He has said it! Well or poorly kept, My glory or disgrace, a fair abode Or dismal foulness, still my God is there. And every deed I do or thought I think Makes record on the temple instantly: No temperance but clears a window-pane, No self-denial but wipes up the dust, No burst of laughter but admits fresh air, No generous deed but sweeps a cobweb down, No loving word but fills a vase with flowers! Better than sceptre and a royal robe To bear the broom and use the cleaning-cloth, A janitor within the house of God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUNTAIN WHIPPOORWILL (A GEORGIA ROMANCE) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE EXISTING POOL by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: YEE BOW by EDGAR LEE MASTERS GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON THE WHITE RABBIT by KAREN SWENSON |