Go
up to the mountain and bring wood
That the house of God may be
built;
Long
since should your sloth have been eschewed,
With your selfishness and your
guilt.
Go
bearing your axe to hew down trees
That the house’s beams may be
strong.
Your
vigour will not regret your ease
As you quit the place of your
wrong.
How
long will you sow but will not reap,
Have your gains in bags full of
holes?
The
house of your God lies waste, a heap -
Rise, for benefit of your souls.
Go,
find there is wood to bear each weight,
There is wood whose scent is
refined,
And
wood to be carved to decorate
Till God’s house accords to
His mind.
How
soon will your blessing have accrued!
God will give your singing a
lilt:
Go
up to the mountain and bring wood
That the house of God may be
built.
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