Passion Flowers (Watson)/On the Heights

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On the Heights.
Stand still, oh! doubting soul, upon the height,Where floods of ambient, pulsing light,Burst sudden from the mighty heart of GodTo glad the waiting earth, to thrill the sod—Uplift thy chalice where the incense cloudsArise, and float, and wrap as filmy shroudsThe hills eternal, while they tireless stand,To do His bidding in the beauteous land.Stand still, and lave thee, oh! thou dormant soul,In morn's baptismal mist, and hear the rollOf sweet concordant strains from Nature's choir,And say, if thou dost dare, while they inspire,That life of man is but as grass or flower,And is not crowned by an immortal dower.
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