Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy
With his marble block before him,
And his eyes lit up with a smile of joy,
As an angel dream passed o’er him.
He carved the dream on that shapeless stone,
With many a sharp incision;
With Heaven’s own light the sculptor shone—
He’d caught that angel vision.
Children of life are we, as we stand
With our lives uncarved before us,
Waiting the hour when, at God’s command,
Our life dream shall pass o’er us.
If we carve it then on the yielding stone,
With many a sharp incision,
Its heavenly beauty shall be our own
Our lives that angel vision.
William Croswell Doane