The Masterpiece

There was an old stone-cutter

Who lived in a cabin on the mountain side

And the old stone-cutter knew it won't be long before he died

And all around his cabin were statues the man had made

Statues that the buyers said were all of a mediocre grade

With his calloused hands he lit a lamp

And laid down his head on his handmade table

And he softly whispered

"Lord I'm old and shaky and I'm hardly able

But give me strenght and wisdom

And give me a week at least

And I'll climb up to the top of this mountain

And chisel out a masterpiece"

The very next morning he felt new strenght

And he took his brand new hammer and the sharpest chisel

He began to climb the mountain

His old feet slipping in the freezing dizzle

When he finally reached the top

He shouted to a world that didn't hear

"I'll carve my masterpiece out of this marble boulder here"

So the hammer beat the chisel

And he hammered 'til an image grew

Then he stopped to look it over

To appraise his work when he was through

It was a boy carrying a crippled boy

And the old man said, "It isn't my masterpiece

I'll call it charity and then a masterpiece of mine will be"

So the hammer beat the chisel

'Til another image in a marbel grew

Then the wind began to blowing

And he sat and rested when he was through

It was the image of a mother holding her child

He said, "This is love as the world would know

But it isn't my masterpiece"

And he began again as it began to snow

The hammer beat the chisel

As the snow fell harder and the wind grew and grew

He fell to his knees holding a stone

And he threw down his hammer and his chisel too

He lay frozen face down in the snow

But one hand was held for the world to see

Cut in the marble was his masterpice

Three neatly carved letters: G O D