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.
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