I stood upon a mountain peak, and sang a triumph song,
The gentle winds of God came by and bore the strain along;
The morning sunshine on my face, and in my heart a prayer,
With earthly mists beneath my feet, I glimpsed the glory there.
And from my hands and heart I felt the binding shackles drop—
I sang a song of liberty upon the mountain top.
I toiled in weariness and gloom amidst the dust and heat,
'Midst whirling wheels and clamorous roar from out the noisy
street;
Then suddenly with lifted head and open heart to hear,
I caught a little triumph song, echoing loud and clear;
Above the noisy whirling wheels, the clamor of the shop,
I heard again the song I'd sung upon the mountain top.
