A New Altar

I’ll tell you truth, oh Brahmin, if I may make so bold! These idols in your temples—these idols have grown old

To hate your fellow-mortals is all they teach you, while Our God too sets his preachers to scold and to revile;

Sickened, from both your temple and our shrines I have run Alike our preachers’ sermons and your fond myths I shun.

In every graven image you fancied God: I see in each speck of my country’s poor dust, divinity

Come, let us lift suspicion’s thick curtains once again, Unite once more the sundered, wipe clean division’s stain

Too long has lain deserted the heart’s warm habitation— Come, build here in our homeland an altar’s new foundation

And rise a spire more lofty than any of this globe, With high pinnacle touching the hem of heaven’s robe

And there at every sunrise let our sweet chanting move The hearts of all who worship, pouring them wine of love

Firm strength, calm peace, shall blend in the hymns the votary sings— For from love comes salvation to all earth’s living things