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 DESERTED GARDEN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE NETHERLANDS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A SEA DIALOGUE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS THE FROGS: THE RIVAL POETS by ARISTOPHANES JAY A-PASS'D by WILLIAM BARNES |