Mrs. J. B. Williamson (‘Richard Scrace’)

GOD of Every Day. He knew its pattern—

Thing of wood and iron, soul and thew,

Hammer, beaten out of stress and battle,

Growing heavier as I stronger grew.

Came the anvil out of Earth’s rough workshop,

Where the giant Motive first had play,

Asking mutely for the hammer-music:

‘I await thee, God of Every Day.’

Vigil of probationing and failure—

Vision of achievement and desire—

Virgin metal brought to do my bidding—

God of Every Day, breathe out the fire!