Chip! Chip! Chip!
The chisel sings,
Peeling off the scaly reem,
breaking in and cutting deep.
Chip! Chip! Chip!
The chisel sings,
Piece by piece, deep,
There’s pain and surely agony,
Coming from every “chiselling” chip.
Chip! Chip! Chip!
The chisel sings,
What’s the point of all of this
Have mercy, the mortal plea,
But, Chip! Chip! Chip!
The chisel sings,
Silently, the sculptor chips,
Piece by piece,
To craft a masterpiece,
A craft of gold and glory,
Amid the pain and agony,
A new true form of a masterpiece.
Chip! Chip! Chip!
The chisel sings,
drawing us near the master’s inn.
So, we dare not trust our keep,
But to put our hope humbly in Him.
So, Chip! Chip!! Chip!!!
The chisel sings,
A craft of glory now revealed,
Maybe now, maybe then,
But in the very end,
A crown of glory on the head
