Space must be found for one other parable, taken (like many other poetical quotations in this volume) from Mrs. Lucas’ translations:
Simeon ben Migdal, at the close of day,
Upon the shores of ocean chanced to stray.
And there a man of form and mien uncouth,
Dwarfed and misshapen, met he on the way.
“Hail, Rabbi.” spoke the stranger passing by,
But Simeon thus, discourteous, made reply:
“Say, are there in thy city many more,
Like unto thee, an insult to the eye?”
“Nay, that I cannot tell,” the wand’rer said,
“But if thou wouldst ply the scorner’s trade,
Go first and ask the Master Potter why
He has a vessel so misshapen made?”
Then (so the legend tells) the Rabbi knew
That he had sinned, and prone himself he threw
Before the other’s feet, and prayed of him
Pardon for the words that now his soul did rue.
But still the other answered as before:
“Go, in the Potter's car thy plaint outpour,
For what am I! His hand has fashioned me,
And I in humble faith that hand adore.”
Brethren, do we not often too forget
Whose hand it is that many a time has set
A radiant soul in an unlovely form,
A fair white bird caged in a mouldering net?
