"MY NEW-CUT ASHLAR"
My new-cut ashlar takes the light
where crimson-blank the windows flare.
By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
If there be good in what I wrought
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine -
Where I have failed to
meet Thy Thought
know, through Thee, the blame was mine.
One instant's toil to Thee denied
stands all Eternity's offence.
Of that I did with Thee to guide,
to Thee, through Thee, be excellence.
The depth and dream of my desire,
the bitter paths wherein I stray -
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain -
Godlike to muse o'er his own Trade
and manlike stand with God again !
One stone the more swings into place
in that dread Temple of Thy worth.
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
I saw nought common on Thy Earth.
Take not that vision from my ken -
oh, whatsoe'er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no help from men
that I may help such men as need !