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 till 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 immage 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 GOD
