The Heavenly Sculptor

SHRINK NOT FROM SUFFERING. Each dear blow,
From which thy smitten spirit bleeds,
Is but a messenger to show
The renovation which it needs.

The earthly sculptor smites the rock;
Loud the relentless hammer rings;
And from the rude, unshapen block,
At length, imprisoned beauty brings.

Thou art that rude, unshapen stone;
And waitest, till the arm of strife
Shall make its crucifixions known,
And smite and carve thee into life.

The Heavenly Sculptor works on THEE;
BE PATIENT. Soon  his  arm of might,
Shall from thy prison's darkness free,
And change thee to a form of light.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXXIV.