The Quarry

 The Quarry

It’s at the quarry where God’s work begins—  

He prepares our hearts and changes us within.  

We feel the pain as each rough edge falls,  

He quarries our souls, leading us to the cross.

The quarry is where we all reside,  

Our spirits refined, our flesh denied. 

So one day we’ll be living stones,  

In His house, where we’ll be home.

Many arrive unprepared for the test,  

Hoping somehow they’ll be spared the unrest.  

And they flinch when the chisel draws near,  

Exposing their hearts and long-hidden fear.

Some stones are cast aside for a time,  

Worn by arrogance, pride, and grime.  

Restoration takes longer for these,  

But in His mercy, they too find peace.

At the quarry, His work begins in us all,  

Shaping us into living stones who answer His call.  

A day will come when His house is restored,  

And living stones worship Jesus, their Lord.

Not all choose the quarry’s way—  

Some reject salvation and go astray,  

Resting in the work of their own hands,  

Following the flawed precepts of man.

And we at the quarry look out and see  

Those who seem happy, thriving, and free.  

We question God and wonder inside:  

Should we, like them, just run and hide?

But it’s in the quarry that God’s plan unfolds,  

While outside, the self-made grow cold.  

They are the straw, the stubble, the dust—  

Destined to crumble, due to whom they trust. 

Yes, the quarry is painful for now,  

But one day, before His throne, we’ll bow.  

The glory we’ll share—beyond imagination—  

Standing in awe of His holy creation.

So even when you look out and see  

Those lost in sin and debauchery,  

Gaining the world, blessed beyond measure—  

Their souls are lost in worldly pleasure.

But you—His living stones, being formed—  

From heaven above, you were reborn.  

And in time, you’ll stand grand and tall,  

As His church shines bright before all.

© 2025 Sandra C. Johnson

This poem has been set to music found here:

https://youtu.be/VJ0rD7noMgQ?si=Wxjq98GP947z9A7I