There is a temple real and true,
A dwelling place for God on high,
And all His saints may there commune,
Whose vaults resound with seraphs’ cries.
Yet not on earth was this tent laid,
Nor was it raised by mortal man.
A tent of skin in heaven made,
Erected by the Father’s hands.
Then all the temples which were made:
Of Moses, Solomon began,
Of Ezra, Herod, gold inlaid,
Were shadows, substance-less, and bland.
But Jesus was the true High-Priest,
Who ministered in this true tent.
The temple, yet, though none can see,
Out-shines all sensory content.
Yet Jesus is Himself this place,
For God and man unite in Him.
He is the temple of God’s grace,
And He is the true tent of skin.