  In my vision I stood on a loftier mount Than this wonderful world hath seen, And gazed down a valley deep and dark, Where so strangely rolled between Lone shores that were weird and unearthly, A river as black as death’s doom, When a hopeless soul is departing, And night comes in horror and gloom. And the old and young there assembled, With burdens too grievous to bear; And their deep moans and lamentations Rose up anguished from everywhere. I saw by a light dim and waning A river of deep, dark despair, And a voice, as of God, sternly warning— Up on high it floated somewhere. And I raised my eyes toward heaven— Not a ray of sunlight was there; Fierce clouds swept along, as if driven By fiends through the desolate air. I listened in awe as that warning Came in tones stern, yet tender as love, Reaching down in that sorrowful valley Saying, “Hopeless souls, look above.” And up from those depths dark and dreary Rose a prayer such as earth never heard, So full of unutterable pleadings, The very hills and mountains were stirred. Suddenly the clouds rent asunder, Rolled back, and the light of the spheres Burst forth in intenseness and glory, Lighting up that lone valley of tears. I heard songs of praise and rejoicing, Such music as earth never heard, Entrancing my soul with its rapture, Such immeasurable joy it conferred. And quickly that vale, late so barren, Bloomed with fruits and the fairest of flowers, And music and laughter came rippling From hillsides, sweet vales, and green bowers. And the river flowed on in its beauty, By mansions so fair on the lea; On and on, flashing in the sunlight, Gliding peacefully to the sea. I knew there was rapture in heaven When the wanderers returned to the fold, For I heard the songs of the angels, Attuned to their sweet harps of gold. I, too, would have joined in rejoicing With the friends of the long ago: One fair as the angels awaiteth Where the sunset gates are aglow. But suddenly the thought came to me That I was forsaken and lone, On a desolate far mountain height, Cast out ever from friends and home. For there was no way from the mountain, And I sank with a bitter cry On the bleached and tempest-swept rocks, O’erwhelmed and alone to die. Many years have passed since that vision Rapt my soul on that fatal day, And still I am lost on the mountain, And heaven seems far away. |
|
