You were there to save the people from the people
when disorder spread like a swelling flood.
Among mortals there has never been your equal.
Through us, your descendents – through our veins flows your blood.
To you we offer this fruit, this incense.
Should we honor your spirit as host or as guest?
Make it our task to keep it, with this bare pittance,
alert throughout its everlasting rest.
Decide for us whether the temple is sturdy,
whether firm enough the ballast beneath the wall.
We celebrate, too, your many worthies,
whose marble tablets are arranged behind this hall,
inscribed thereon, with colorful illustrations,
lessons for subsequent generations.
Rest, abide with us here – winter, spring, summer, fall.
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