By arm of one who doth its labor guide,
It moveth with a motion not its own;
But that on high, which lieth by God’s throne,
Itself, and all beside makes beautiful;
And if no tool be wrought without a tool,
The rest are fashioned by its power alone.
As falls a blow with greater force and heat
The further it descends, for forging mine,
The lifted hammer high as heaven flew;
Wherefore mine own will never be complete