In the still air the music lies unheard; In the rough marble beauty hides unseen. To make the music and the beauty needs The Master???s touch, the Sculptor???s chisel keen. Great Master, touch us with Thy skillful hands; Let not the music that is in us die; Great Sculptor, hew and polish us, nor let Hidden and lost, Thy form within us lie. Spare not the stroke; do with us what Thou wilt; Let there be naught unfinished, broken, marred; Complete Thy purpose that we may become Thy perfect image???Thou our God and Lord.