A NIGHT AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
97
That binds us so to earth; and we must drink
The cup with meekness, or despairing sink!
Heaven proves us; painfully auction's rod
O'ertakes us, bidding us return to God,
Nor wander thence again; a precious soul
Is in our keeping we should well control,
And fit for heaven. Unto so great a trust
Can we be faithless, treading it to dust?
The cup with meekness, or despairing sink!
Heaven proves us; painfully auction's rod
O'ertakes us, bidding us return to God,
Nor wander thence again; a precious soul
Is in our keeping we should well control,
And fit for heaven. Unto so great a trust
Can we be faithless, treading it to dust?
The day-star dawneth! I have mused too long
Upon the hills. I hear the wildbird's song
Welcome the morn; the dew is on the flowers,
Strengthening them for the hot noon-tide hours,
So hopefully upon my heart I find
The dews of meditation; I will bind
Their purity around me, and go forth
In strength and holiness; the things of earth
May bend but will not break my spirit; a light
Still shines from heaven across the darkest night,
And lead by it gently, upward, the tired soul
Will rest at last beyond the world's control.
Upon the hills. I hear the wildbird's song
Welcome the morn; the dew is on the flowers,
Strengthening them for the hot noon-tide hours,
So hopefully upon my heart I find
The dews of meditation; I will bind
Their purity around me, and go forth
In strength and holiness; the things of earth
May bend but will not break my spirit; a light
Still shines from heaven across the darkest night,
And lead by it gently, upward, the tired soul
Will rest at last beyond the world's control.
