I came across this poem by Dorothy Sayers while thumbing through "The Man Born To Be King" this morning. I was surprised to find myself inside its third verse, with the prose of my own thoughts put into Sayer’s poetic voice. Those pretentious architects who think their inky scribbles anything more than mere ideas. They don’t actually do anything! And since I found the poem speaking my own words, what a wonder to have it respond with a fitting rebuke and exhortation.
Thank you Ms. Sayers. You, this morning, are as Abel to me: “By faith Abel offered to God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain, through which he was commended as righteous, God commending him by accepting his gifts. And through his faith, though he died, he still speaks.” (Hebrews 11:4)
This poem is wonderful, and I commend it to you.
The Makers
The Architect stood forth and said: "I am the master of the art: I have a thought within my head, I have a dream within my heart. "Come now, good craftsman, ply your trade With tool and stone obediently; Behold the plan that I have made- I am the master, serve you me." The Craftsman answered: "Sir, I will, Yet look to it that this your draft Be of a sort to serve my skill- You are not master of the craft. "It is by me the towers grow tall, I lay the course, I shape and hew; You make a little inky scrawl, And that is all that you can do. "Account me, then, the master man, Laying my rigid rule upon The plan, and that which serves the plan- The uncomplaining, helpless stone." The Stone made answer: "Masters mine, Know this: that I can bless or damn The thing that both of you design By being but the thing I am; "For I am granite and not gold, For I am marble and not clay, You may not hammer me nor mould- I am the master of the way. "Yet once the mastery bestowed Then I will suffer patiently The cleaving steel, the crushing load, That make a calvary of me; "And you may carve me with your hand To arch and buttress, roof and wall, Until the dream rise up and stand- Serve but the stone, the stone serves all. "Let each do well what each knows best, Nothing refuse and nothing shirk, Since none is master of the rest, But all are servants of the work- "The work no master may subject Save He to whom the whole is known, Being Himself the Architect, The Craftsman and the Corner-stone. "Then, when the greatest and the least Have finished all their labouring And sit together at the feast, You shall behold a wonder thing: "The Maker of the men that make Will stoop between the cherubim, The towel and the basin take, And serve the servants who serve Him." The Architect and Craftsman both Agreed, the Stone had spoken well; Bound them to service by an oath And each to his own labour fell.