MAORI CARVER His fingers draw their power from a source Beyond his own life span. He can but guide The knife upon its mission while he feels The tuning of his spirit with the past. Chapter and verse are his, the living whole Embodied in the knowledge of his hands, A nation's birthright and its history, His vision flowering upon the wood.

TE MATUA O TE MOTU SIR APIRANA NGATA Tremble with glory, O Ra, in your dying, Burn on the pinnacle of mighty Hikurangi, Winds of the east, breathe on Waiomatatini Deep in ancient Puputa's sacred shade. Kindle the mind with the spirit who dwelt here, Stir the heart with the echo of his voice! Ko Hikurangi te maunga, Ko Waiapu te wai, Ko Apirana Ngata te tangata! When the birds of the morning at Rakaiwharehuka Long ago heard the voice of Hakopa the tohunga, All was foreshadowed, to be written in history, With the prophecy sounding in the dawn. Bright as a jewel shone the ember in the paua shell in its blue smoke the rainbow appeared. And the child grew to manhood With the mountain and the river, With the heritage of Nagati Porou. O, lofty taumata, O, strong Hikurangi! Blaze forth his spirit, te matua o te motu! The lion on the marae with oratory ringing, Living words to strike fire to the soul, The poet, the leader, the builder of houses, Steeped in the rich pride of his race, His ideal that was blessed Beneath Rongomaipapa— Once again from the shadow of noble Porourangi Let his challenge ring out to the furthermost regions To the ears and the hearts of the youth that he cherished. For Maoritanga draw the sword from the sheath! Let the challenge be held and the loyalties quickened To keep burnished his long-tended flame. O, loved Kaumatua, Still your mountain stands sentinel And steadfast the Waiapu flows on!