He built no temple, yet the farthest sea Can yield no shore that's barren of His place For bended knee. He wrote no book, and yet His words and prayer Are intimate on many myriad tongues, Are counsel everywhere. The life He lived has never been assailed, Nor any precept, as He lived it, yet Has ever failed. He built no kingdom, yet a King from youth He reigned, is reigning yet; they call His realm The kingdom of the Truth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORSAKEN MERMAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: 7. THE MEASURE OF BEAUTY by THOMAS CAMPION A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO by CHARLES LAMB ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 3. TO THE CUCKOO by MARK AKENSIDE NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 8 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |