'_We Build Like Giants; we Finish Like Jewelers!_'--so the old Egyptians
wrote over the portals of their palaces and temples. I like to think
that the most gigantic task ever attempted on this planet--the work of
the world's redemption--was finished with a precision and a nicety that
no jeweler could rival.
'_It is finished!_' He cried from the Cross.
'_Tetelestai! Tetelestai!_'
When He looked upon His work in Creation and saw that it was good, He
placed it beyond the power of man to improve upon it.
To gild refinèd gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
And, similarly, when He looked upon His work in Redemption and cried
triumphantly '_Tetelestai_,' He placed it beyond the power of any man to
add to it.
There are times when any addition is a subtraction. Some years ago,
White House at Washington--the residence of the American Presidents--was
in the hands of the painters and decorators. Two large entrance doors
had been painted to represent black walnut. The contractor ordered his
men to scrape and clean them in readiness for repainting, and they set
to work. But when their knives penetrated to the solid timber, they
discovered to their astonishment that it was heavy mahogany of a most
exquisite natural grain! The work of that earlier decorator, so far from
adding to the beauty of the timber, had only served to conceal its
essential and inherent glory. It is easy enough to add to the wonders of
Creation or of Redemption; but you can never add without subtracting.
'_It is finished!_'