Unfinished

The waters cold did set foundation strong
on which we’ve raised the first few beams to heights,
the lines to heav’n, arose by word and song
to form the ribs beneath soft starry night.
The walls do fill as love does taste and see
new bread no more, the mighty binding cord
a-wrappéd well within eternity
that lifts to draw all things unto the Lord.
And daily nails and beams and bricks arrive
to raise some more but often we ignore
and build with sand and dust; we cannot thrive
and cannot end, still adding more and more.
When this you know ask not for perfect heart
but build each other up by holy art.

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