Carved in His Image

When the blessings fall from our lips,
Speak not of pleasures that decay,
The sacred, cut stone, chip by chip—
These are the trials that shape our way.

For pain, though sharp, refines the soul,
Each blow, each loss, each burdened sigh,
God’s hand, the artist, makes us whole.
carves us close to the throne on high.

The fleeting joys of earthly days
As in His image, we are made.
May stir our hearts in fleeting praise,
The chisel sharp yet unafraid.

Marble under the sculptor’s care,
Each strike, though harsh, brings forth the form—
We’re shaped with patience, smooth, and fair.
beyond the storms, a soul reborn.

Jesus Christ bore the weight of pain
In us painstakingly remade,
Through Him, the foundation was lain.
by love divine, our old selves fade,

and in His image, both pure and true,
What greater blessing can there be
He chisels us with each breakthrough.
With God’s own hands setting us free?

Though worldly pleasures tempt the ear,
We’re being formed, His voice is clear.
To be painstakingly reworked,
By love divine, where sin once lurked.

Yet deeper still, the chisel’s sound
In the carver’s hands, we’re designed—
As God carves in us grace, profound.
Eternal, masterpiece refined.

And as the stone yields to the light,
The old self fades, now chipped away,
We stand complete through God’s might.
As we are made anew each day.

far above the world’s self-made plight—
Set in stone, the carver’s delight.