Two ornaments I have set
On my hall stand by the door—
One a marble statuette,
One a fragile matador.
The hard marble bears the signs
Of the sculptor’s tools of trade—
Pointed, sharp, cold chiselled lines
Define subtle hues of jade.
The matador made from clay
Bears marks of the potter’s hands—
Soft-worked masterpiece displays
The creativeness of man.
I see a likeness in them
Of God’s working in our hearts—
Though He moulds us from within
It’s expressed in outer parts.
He chisels at our hardness,
Trims rough edges clean away,
He softens every harshness
Like the potter does with clay.
He uses those around us
As His chisels and His moulds—
While they chip, hone and round us
God is working in our souls!
Next time someone upsets you
See the Sculptor at His chores—
When Christ The Lord begets you
You’re being fashioned evermore.
Matador and statuette
Which still grace my hallway stand,
Remind me Christ’s working yet,
Moulding me by Master hands.
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