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Upon
his
back
a
carpenter
bore
his
wood
Ruggedly
hewn
and
heavy
as
to
make
him
lapse
to
his
knees
A
kind
hand
helped
him
with
his
burden
and
On
he
forged
to
the
place
where
he
would
build
his
bridge
There
in
his
hands
he
took
his
nails
and
began
to
build
For
this
is
the
life
of
a
carpenter
To
take
into
his
hands
something
raw
and
rugged
And
through
his
labor
shape
it
into
something
with
meaning
and
form
and
afterwards
know
it
is
good
It
is
his
life's
work,
for
others
he
builds,
shelters,
And
bridges
by
which
weary
souls
rest
and
travel
Breaches
between
worlds
of
confinement
to
life
Anew
waiting
on
the
other
side
Across
valleys
so
deep
none
could
cross
were
It
not
for
the
works
of
his
hands
And
even
so
as
he
began
to
build
there
were
those
who
proclaimed
no
need
for
him
or
the
path
he
lay
Those
who
neither
welcomed
or
embraced
change
Few
understood
the
need
for
his
work
Despite
their
revelry
and
scorn
he
lay
the
foundation
For
them
who
rebuked
him
he
labored
on
till
his
hands
spilled
blood
He
labored
till
his
strength
was
spent
and
saw
no
Rest
until
the
bridge
reached
across
The
timbers
were
raised
and
heaven
spilled
down
upon
the
earth
From
two
rugged
timbers
and
the
the
nails
in
his
hands
He
endured
till
the
way
was
made
,Till
he
could
labor
no
longer
He
looked
upon
the
faces
of
the
weary
souls
who
had
Changed
their
hearts
and
now
gathered
to
cross
Heaven
and
earth
met
in
an
infinite
embrace
He
now
could
look
upon
the
bridge
and
with
his
final
breath,
say
"
It
is
finished
"
Paige
Gray
Luke 24, 50-51
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