The Perfector


There are two portraits carved in wood

Where, between them, a carpenter has stood

The tools of the trade were in His hand

More were around His waist in a golden band


The first picture was the result of human work

Where behind each cut, deadly harm could lurk

The other face is of heavenly design

Chipped and smoothed until beautifully fine


The carver was always ready to make a start

His motivation had to come from another’s heart

Once crushed, once lost, hopeless and forlorn

Now open to be bound up, no more to mourn


The craftsman’s tools were refined, unique

Making nothing too hard or impossible a feat

The chisels were labeled Grace, Love and Peace

Polishing cloths made from a lamb’s soft fleece


Before it all I stood in silent prayer

Knowing God’s Spirit could see me there

I looked from one portrait to the other

Understanding my plight, also that of my brother


From stilled lips, yet formed in my deepest part

Came the shout, “Now!, Master, will you start?”

Break up the fallow ground you see

I seek my Lord to rain righteousness on me


No more shall I eat the blemished fruit of lies

The ‘might of men’ now taken from my eyes

Features become truer to one of Abraham’s lineage

As the Perfector’s hand works His miracle image.