8
THE MASTER'S HAND.
And when with jealous care
His hand had cleansed the canvas, line by line,
Behold! The fire of perfect art divine,
Had burned its impress there!
His hand had cleansed the canvas, line by line,
Behold! The fire of perfect art divine,
Had burned its impress there!
Upon the tablet glowed,
Made priceless by the arch of time they spanned,
The touches of the rare Old Master's hand,
The life his skill bestowed.
Made priceless by the arch of time they spanned,
The touches of the rare Old Master's hand,
The life his skill bestowed.
O God whom we adore!
Give us the watchful sight, to see and trace
Thy living semblance in each human face
However clouded o'er.
Give us the watchful sight, to see and trace
Thy living semblance in each human face
However clouded o'er.
Give us the power to find,
However warped and grimed by time and sin,
Thine impress stamped upon the soul within,
Thy signet on the mind.
However warped and grimed by time and sin,
Thine impress stamped upon the soul within,
Thy signet on the mind.
Not ours the reckless speed
To proudly pass our brother's weakness by,
And turning from his side with careless eye,
To take no further heed;—
To proudly pass our brother's weakness by,
And turning from his side with careless eye,
To take no further heed;—
