Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boyWith 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 sculpture shone,-
He'd caught that angel-vision.
Children of life are we, as we standWith 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.
-George Washington Doane