Poems (Edwards)/The Mountains

by Matilda Caroline Smiley Edwards

THE MOUNTAINS. 

"Thanks be to God for the mountains." 

[Howitt's Book of the Seasons.

The mountains! aye, the mountains!
 How beautiful they rise,
In dark and awful grandeur,
 Against the azure skies.
There's a beauty in each lofty crag.
 A majesty sublime,
That scorns the mildew of decay,
 And mocks the flight of time.

Man's proudest works have crumbled,
 And fallen to decay,
And empires have departed,
 Like fleeting winds away;
Thrones to the dust have fallen,
 Proud kings have lived and died,
And kingdoms strong have tottered down,
 In spite of all their pride.

But ye have stood the test of time,
 Ye mountains! high and proud,
Ye stand unmoved in the trackless air,
 Each clad in a mystic shroud;
There shall ye stand through time,
 Untouched by dull decay,
Till Heaven and earth shall disappear,
 Like a meteor's flash away.

How many holy memories
 Around the mountains throng!
How many deeds enacted there
 Have been embalmed in song;
But when the bard's sweet numbers
 No more on earth shall thrill,
The high and holy mountains
 Will tower above us still.

From Sinai's shrouded summit
 To Calvary's blood-stained sod,
Where died for our transgressions,
 The spotless Lamb of God;
The chain of memory circles
 Around each sacred spot,
And through eternity to come,
 They shall not be forgot.

Stand, stand, ye "sacred mountains!"
 Stand in your beauty grand,
Stand ye as glorious monuments
 Of the Almighty's hand:
Tell all the world around you,
 O! publish it abroad,
"Earth, with her thousand voices,"
 Sends praises up to God.