Without this stern, sore work on the stones, not one of them could ever
have filled a place in the temple. At last when they were ready they
were lifted out of the dark quarry and carried up to the mountain-top,
where the temple was rising, and were laid in their place.
We are stones in the quarry as yet. When we accepted Christ we were
cut from the great mass of rock. But we were yet rough and unshapely;
not fit for heaven. Before we can be ready for our place in the
heavenly temple we must be hewn and shaped. The hammer must do its
work, breaking off the roughnesses. The chisel must be used, carving
and polishing our lives into beauty. This work is done in the many
processes of life. Every sinful thing, every fault in our character,
is a rough place in the stone, which must be chiselled off. All the
crooked lines must be straightened. Our lives must be cut and hewn
until they conform to the perfect standard of divine truth.
Quarry-work is not always pleasant. If stones had hearts and
sensibilities, they would sometimes cry out in sore pain as they feel
the hammer strokes and the deep cutting of the chisel. Yet the workman
must not heed their cries and withdraw his hand, else they would at
last be thrown aside as worthless blocks, never to be built into the
place of honor.
We are not stones; we have hearts and sensibilities, and we do cry out
ofttimes as the hammer smites away the roughnesses in our character.
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