In the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen;
To make the music and the beauty needs
The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen.
Great Master, touch us with thy skillful hand;
Let not the music that is in us die.
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let
Hidden and lost thy form within us lie!
Spare not the stroke! Do with us as thou wilt!
Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred;
Complete thy purpose that we may become
Thy perfect image, thou our God and Lord!
--Horatius Bonar.
The childish smile is fair, but lovelier far
The smiles which tell of griefs that now no longer are.
--John Sterling.