Friday, 8 February 2019


He has brought us to
What He Himself pitched -
The true tabernacle.

Within it the ark, structured
By such nobles,
Bezaleel and Aholiab.

The mercy-seat,
Blood on the pure gold,
Is the place of justification.

All lit by
The lamps of the pure lampstand
Of pure gold, laced
With pure beaten olive oil.

     But purity demands
     That our approach is by
     The copper altar and the blood,
     The laver and its water.

For the heart of God
The golden altar pours up
Fragrance of His Beloved.

Blow the silver trumpet!
Let the good report
Sound and resound.


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