The Master's Studio a poem

The Master’s Studio

Oh let me come again and again
to the Master’s studio,
to take my place upon His stand,
where restoration flows.
I seek so much his precious touch
to move about my form,
and wipe away impurity
that’s left me quite deformed.
His holy hands mold my heart,
holding tight that I not slip.
His eyes reflect to me a sight,
the beauty he sees me with.
No greater love will I find
beyond these sacred doors.
My God, My Love, My Savior’s touch
both cleanses and restores.
how I want the world to see
the product of our time,
see His trace upon my face,
his image now refined.
No limit of his grace is found.
His mercies longer still.
With great care He tends to me,
my God ordains His will.
I content to watch Him work,
eager to be transformed,
work hard to hold my new shape,
that he may be adored.
I pray one day I will come
and move to take my place.
His outstretched arms reach for me,
a smile upon His face.
words my heart longs to hear,
will echo in my ears
Making sense of all the hours
spent struggling with Him here
“No longer will we labor child,
it’s time to take you home.
No need to climb upon the block,
it's finished. Our work is done.
Your deeds show your heart is good.
In you I see my Son.
Those who know you best have seen
the two of us are one,
Behold now the life you’ve lived,
see the wake you’ve left behind:
The beauty of a faithful child
who lived daily at my side.”
Tracy L. Frazier