L’Envoi to “Life’s Handicap”
My new-cut ashlar takes the lightWhere crimson-blank the windows flare;By my own work, before the night,Great Overseer I make my prayer.
If there be good in that I wrought,Thy hand compelled it, Master, Thine;Where I have failed to meet Thy thoughtI know, through Thee, the blame is mine.
One instant’s toil to Thee deniedStands all Eternity’s offence,Of that I did with Thee to guideTo Thee, through Thee, be excellence.
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain,Godlike to muse o’er his own tradeAnd Manlike stand with God again.
The depth and dream of my desire,The bitter paths wherein I stray,Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay!
One stone the more swings to her placeIn that dread Temple of Thy Worth—It is enough that through Thy graceI saw naught common on Thy earth.
Take not that vision from my ken;Oh whatsoe’er may spoil or speed,Help me to need no aid from menThat I may help such men as need!