Classic Poem

There is a house not built with hands,
Where all who enter shall abide;
Above where eye can reach it stands,
Whence all depart, who here have died.

Beneath, it rests on many a gem,
Dug from the heart's deep, darkest mine;
Thou who art toiling now for them,
Shalt see them there in radiance shine.

Of gold the floor, the gold of love,
Thrice in affliction's fire made pure;
There feet of angels ever move,
There dwell the just in peace secure.

The light is brighter than the day,
Reflected from its crystal walls;
Thou see'st at times a glimmering ray,
Which to its courts thy spirit calls.

And thou shalt dwell, and worship there,
When thou hast put thy garment on;
The Savior doth that house prepare,
There all the pure in heart have gone.