Songs Old and New ... Collected Edition [by Elizabeth Charles] |
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THE STILL WATERS OF THE VALLEY. |
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 | Songs Old and New |  |
122
THE STILL WATERS OF THE VALLEY.
Their source is on the mountains,
The streams of which we drink;
But we must tread the valleys,
If we would reach their brink.
Their source is on the mountains,
Higher than feet can go;
Yet human lips but touch them
In the valleys, still and low.
The streams of which we drink;
But we must tread the valleys,
If we would reach their brink.
Their source is on the mountains,
Higher than feet can go;
Yet human lips but touch them
In the valleys, still and low.
Beyond the fields and forests,
Beyond the homes of men,
Beyond the wild-goat's refuge,
Beyond the eagle's ken,
Beyond the oldest glaciers,
Beyond the loftiest snows,
Beyond the furthest summit
Where earliest morning glows,
Beyond the homes of men,
Beyond the wild-goat's refuge,
Beyond the eagle's ken,
Beyond the oldest glaciers,
Beyond the loftiest snows,
Beyond the furthest summit
Where earliest morning glows,
123
Still climbing, ever climbing
To reach the streams we love,
Their music ever with us,
Their source is still above,
Beyond Heaven's heights of glory,
As past earth's heights of snow;
Yet can our lips but taste them
In the valleys, still and low.
To reach the streams we love,
Their music ever with us,
Their source is still above,
Beyond Heaven's heights of glory,
As past earth's heights of snow;
Yet can our lips but taste them
In the valleys, still and low.
Once, when the heavenly voices
Seemed to call me on their track,
I wondered why some hindrance
Still drew my footsteps back;
Some feeble steps to succour,
Some childish feet to lead,
Some wandering lambs to gather,
Some hungered ones to feed;
Seemed to call me on their track,
I wondered why some hindrance
Still drew my footsteps back;
Some feeble steps to succour,
Some childish feet to lead,
Some wandering lambs to gather,
Some hungered ones to feed;
Some call of lowly duty,
With low, resistless tone;
Some weight of others' burdens,
Some burden of my own.
But now, though heavenly voices
Still bid my spirit soar,
While my feet tread lowly places,
I wonder thus no more.
With low, resistless tone;
Some weight of others' burdens,
Some burden of my own.
But now, though heavenly voices
Still bid my spirit soar,
While my feet tread lowly places,
I wonder thus no more.
124
Their source is on the mountains,
The streams of which we drink;
But only in the valleys
Our lips can reach their brink.
Our hearts are on the mountains
Whither our feet shall go;
But our feet are in the valleys
Where the still waters flow.
The streams of which we drink;
But only in the valleys
Our lips can reach their brink.
Our hearts are on the mountains
Whither our feet shall go;
But our feet are in the valleys
Where the still waters flow.
| Songs Old and New | |