How slow the forming—

how hard some blows—

But I, the stone, must come to know

In my own person, my own soul,

Thy will, Thy purpose here below.

O Master, now I plead to Thee,

Cut off my roughness, form my face,

Refine my feelings, make of me

A fit reflection of Thy grace.

Yea, haste the day when I may kneel

Before Thee and great Elohim,

Accepted, peaceful in Thy home,

At last like Thee, each grain of stone.

Sculpture by Jason Metcalf, photography by Matthew Reier