O you who long for light,—God's keen, triumphant
light,—
Turn from the canyoned path where swilling shadows
are;
Above you waits the freedom of the mountain's height,
Forever open to the surge of sun and star.
O you who pray for peace,—God's satisfying peace,—
Put off the hidden sword and armor that you wear;
Rancor and strife and murmurings of fear must cease
Ere you are worthy of the gift you crave in prayer.
O you who pray for truth.—God's truth without alloy,—
Mine not in rock and stream for gold that has its price;
Things finite yield no perfect wealth, no depth of joy,
E'en as the plain no peak, the marsh no edelweiss.
