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Ashlar Home > Poems > Rob Morris > The Trowel

The Trowel

By Rob Morris

The Perfect Ashlars, duly set
Within the walls, need mortar yet
A Cement mixed with ancient skill,
And tempered at the Builder's will
With this each crevice is concealed
Each flaw and crack securely sealed,
And all the blocks within their place
United in one perfect mass!

For this the Trowel's use is given,
It makes the work secure and even
Secure, that storms may not displace,
Even, that beauty's lines may grace
It is the proof of Mason's art
Rightly to do the Trowel's part!
The rest is all reduced to rule,
But this must come from God's own school!

We build the House not made with hands
Our Master, from Celestial lands,
Points out the plan, the blocks, the place,
And bids us build in strength and grace:
From quarries' store we choose the rock,
We shape and smooth the perfect block,
And placing it upon the wall,
Humbly the Master's blessing call.

But there is yet a work undone,
To fix the true and polished stone!
The Master's blessings will not fall
Upon a loose, disjointed wall
Exposed to ravages of time,
It cannot have the mark sublime
That age and honor did bestow
Upon the FANS on Sion's brow.

Brothers, true Builders of the soul,
Would you become one perfect whole,
That all the blasts which time can move
Shall only strengthen you in love?
Would you, as Life's swift sands shall run,
Build up the Temple here begun,
That death's worst onset it may brave,
And you eternal wages have?

Then fix in love's cement the heart!
Study and act the Trowel's part!
Strive, in the Compass' span to live,
And mutual concessions give!
Daily your prayers and alms bestow,
As yonder light doth clearly show,
And walking by the Plummet just,
In God your hope, in God your trust!

But there is yet a work undone,
To fix the true and polished stone!
The Master's blessings will not fall
Upon a loose, disjointed wall
Exposed to ravages of time,
It cannot have the mark sublime
That age and honor did bestow
Upon the FANS on Sion's brow.

Brothers, true Builders of the soul,
Would you become one perfect whole,
That all the blasts which time can move
Shall only strengthen you in love?
Would you, as Life's swift sands shall run,
Build up the Temple here begun,
That death's worst onset it may brave,
And you eternal wages have?

Then fix in love's cement the heart!
Study and act the Trowel's part!
Strive, in the Compass' span to live,
And mutual concessions give!
Daily your prayers and alms bestow,
As yonder light doth clearly show,
And walking by the Plummet just,
In God your hope, in God your trust!
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