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In The Still Air The Music Lies Unheard

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 hands;

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 what Thou wilt;

Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred;

Complete Thy purpose that we may become

Thy perfect image-Thou our God and Lord.

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