Each stone that goes into the wall
And lifts it higher from the clay
Is but a life that heeds the call
To serve its God from day to day.
No hammers on their anvils beat,
Yet in some wondrous time to be
The finished work will stand complete--
The temple of humanity.
The patient builders--who are they,
Whose hands have toiled and oft alone,
Through many a hard, discouraged day
To set e’er night another stone?
They are the teachers who have brought
The word of righteousness and truth,
The great ideal, the noble thought,
And dropped them in the heart of youth.
[Poem is on cover page with the following additional text: The Sunday
School Journal, August 1921. Cover has an illustration of a path, lined
by bushes and trees, leading to a large church. The view of the church
is partially obscured by the trees, but its steeple rises above them.
The sky is dominated by tall, white, billowing clouds.]