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Adelia M. Hoyt memoir and photographs
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THE ANGEL'S PROMISE A sculptor wrought on marble white From early dawn 'till shades of night Fell o'er the landscape far and wide- Then he looked at his work and sadly sighed; So poor, so incomplete it seemed Beside the vision of which he dreamed. A sob rose from his troubled breast, "Oh God!" he cried "I have done my best." That night an angel in mercy sent Over the marble figure bent. No sound was heard- but swift and sure The chisel fell on marble pure. And as he wrought the statue grew More beautiful and fair to view - For every stroke on form and face Added some new and subtle grace. The sculptor came in the early morn With heavy heart and look forlorn, But his eyes were dazzled, his brain distraught By the wondrous change the night had brought; With rapturous joy his bosom swelled As the glorious image he now beheld- And there on the wall, just over its head, In letters of gold these words he read: "When the workman hath wrought as best he could, Whatever the work God makes it good." The sculptor has long since passed away, His statue has fallen into decay, But the promise the angel left behind Is still fulfilled to all mankind- "When the workman hath wrought as best he could, Whatever the work God makes it good." So when you feel you have done your best. Just leave to the master workman the rest. -1-
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THE ANGEL'S PROMISE A sculptor wrought on marble white From early dawn 'till shades of night Fell o'er the landscape far and wide- Then he looked at his work and sadly sighed; So poor, so incomplete it seemed Beside the vision of which he dreamed. A sob rose from his troubled breast, "Oh God!" he cried "I have done my best." That night an angel in mercy sent Over the marble figure bent. No sound was heard- but swift and sure The chisel fell on marble pure. And as he wrought the statue grew More beautiful and fair to view - For every stroke on form and face Added some new and subtle grace. The sculptor came in the early morn With heavy heart and look forlorn, But his eyes were dazzled, his brain distraught By the wondrous change the night had brought; With rapturous joy his bosom swelled As the glorious image he now beheld- And there on the wall, just over its head, In letters of gold these words he read: "When the workman hath wrought as best he could, Whatever the work God makes it good." The sculptor has long since passed away, His statue has fallen into decay, But the promise the angel left behind Is still fulfilled to all mankind- "When the workman hath wrought as best he could, Whatever the work God makes it good." So when you feel you have done your best. Just leave to the master workman the rest. -1-
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