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I saw the mountain rising high Thrusting her head into the sky Pushing thru the clouds, gray and white, Reching, thrusting far out of sight - Great snowy peaks, both brave and bold, Breathlessly new, eternally old, Calling my soul forth from me Calling my heart - "O, come, be free!" Lifting my soul on cold air, rare, Upward to God - I know He's there, Beyond this life, beyond the grave, Higher and higher, on Love's pure wave. Behold the mountain for which I yearn Behold its beauty - let me return And thurst my head when hoary white Up thru the clouds to find God's light.  (Feb 1, 1979)
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Copyright © 2001, Patricia Morse-McNeely
A Cousin's Website
by Mary