Classic Poem

The builders still reject my corner stone,
That I low down in every soul have laid;
Their houses rise and fall; for there are none
That in the building seek its chosen aid;
Why will ye raise upon the shifting sands
Houses that every storm must battle down;
Temples and altars reared to Me with hands,
That rain and floods beneath their fury drown?
Clear, clear the ground of all that you have brought,
The corner stone shall now be laid anew;
That which the foolish builders set at naught
Shall now be laid where all that pass shall view;
And wonder why men thought them ever wise,
And on their own foundation sought to rise.