Poem

[Philip Davies]

When I finished a roof, I recited this:

O can he square a timber
And can he cut it clean?
And can he slot the shoulders home
And let no space be seen?

And can he lay a frame out
According to the Rule?
And can he raise a roof-tree
And set it on the stall?

And can he swing the shutters
And box a casement round?
And can he line the panels in
Along the skirting ground?

And are the treads well-trodden
Be they spiral, dogged or straight?
And will his handrail guide us
Whether so dark or late?

We make, but do not lock the door.
Whoever owns the land,
We did not grow the wood ourselves:
The plumb falls by His Hand!

(Ie IESOUS XRISTOS TEKTON)

This is called “The hymn of the Hand”. I wrote it. I have not recited it often and I aver I am a word master, not a wood master.