A MAN of prophecy was there, who should
Unto his waiting people come apace,
Strong in the likeness of the "Great Stone Face,"
And so among them work in gracious mood,
Dispelling evil and dispensing good,
That all the valley from a wilding place
Redeemed should lie in fair and smiling grace.
A grave-eyed boy, whose heart was wont to brood
In seriousness the ancient legend o'er,
To manhood grew, and age; content to be
A patient worker that great face before,
And worshipful with all expectancy;
Till men cried suddenly--"Forevermore
Thou hast the likeness, thou! Lo, thou art he!"
Indwelling with thy soul this wilderness,
In thine own cool and quiet latitudes,
Whose solemn vastness breathes beatitudes
On such as thou, betimes thou felt the stress
Of mortal need, and wrought for wrong's redress;
Unfolding prophecy which o'er us broods
Like smothered thunder, with sweet interludes
Of thine own singing. While in patientness
The coming good thou waitedst, looking on
The Great Face Infinite, thy zeal o'er-ran
At sobs of woe in life's deep undertone,
And working thou hast watched, till all men can
His likeness trace in grandeur on thine own,
And cry, "Beloved bard, thou art the man!"