I noted the chiseled turrets
Myriad rising toward the sky,
And the curious old bronze doorway . . .
I could not pass it by.
I gazed with awe at the columns,
Their giant massive length
Towering among the arches
In adamantine strength.
My shod feet seemed a sacrilege
On the old mosaic floor,
Patterned from some ages temple
In dim far days of yore.
I stood beneath the windows
Where the light falls soft and dim,
Where the Christ was silhouetted
I came face to face with Him.
It seemed to me He entered
That silent holy place;
That His Presence filled the temple
As I gazed upon His face.