The Statue

SAMUEL JOHNSTONE MACDONALD

As servants plowed his fields one day,
Yussuf Ben Orem came that way,
And stood and watched their sturdy toil
As they upturned the fertile soil.

When, Io, one plowshare struck a stone,
That, when uncovered, seemed to own
Some grace of figure, which the man
Begged for the master's eye to scan.

He had the stone removed to where
It might be found if figure fair,
Obscured beneath the clinging soil,
Would issue from the cleanser's toil.

With patient zeal and loving care,
And tenderly lest they impair
Some line of beauty or of grace,
They toiled, the dark stains to efface.

And Io, at last, their toil complete,
A statue, fair from head to feet;
Whose beauty, form, and grace amazed
The eyes of all who thereon gazed.

Yussuf Ben Orem looked, and thought:
Nay, am I not then gently taught
That thus, by patient daily toil,
Ourselves we cleanse from mortal soil?

Until, revealed, we joyous scan
The statue of a perfect man;
And never should our hearts despair,—
The perfect man is ever there.

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