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The Sculptor

by Kathleen Higham

He is the Sculptor, I the stone
Broken, jagged edges, I moan
Meticulously chiseled, polished to shine
Cast into the world to be a sign.
He is the Sculptor-

Yearn for this process of breaking
The stone a gem in the making
Now finished and complete
Stand before the King at His feet.
He is the Sculptor-

Go; with eyes that dazzle with love
The Father's hand perfects from above
Gather those unfinished, unhewn
For He is coming, coming soon.
He is the Sculptor-

Hold each one to your heart
As the process will surely start
Not one stone shall be left unturned
Their form at last discerned.
He is the Sculptor-

Oh, marvel at His masterpiece
His workmanship can never cease
The stone now priceless- Could it be?
The Creator recreated me!
He is the Sculptor-

Shine brilliant for the Lord
Cut and molded by His sword
When His work is finely done
Done-To glorify His son.
He is the Sculptor-

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Click Here to contact Kathleen Higham to request permission to use this poem.