The temple lies in ruins and idol there is not worshipped. Man makes new idols and soon forgets them. He sets up new ideals and values and then puts them away. The materialistic world neglects the eternal God.
DEITY of the ruined temple! The broken strings of Vina sing no more your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not your time of worship. The air is still and silent about you.
In yoour desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It brings the tidings of flowers – the flowers that for your worship are offered no more.
Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favour still refused. In the eventide, when fires and shadows mingle with the gloom of dust, he wearily comes back to the ruined temple with hunger in his heart.
Many a festival day comes to you in silence, deity of the ruined temple. Many a night of worship goew away with lamp unlit.
Many new images are built by masters of cunning art and carried to the holy stream of oblivion when their time is come.
Only the deity of the ruined temple remains unworshipped in deathless neglect.
