I stood alone upon a mountain peak But why did I climb so high, what did I seek? Then I went home and counted out my dead And on the welcoming pillow lay my head.
I woke in morning light, my saving grace, And on the whitewashed wall my hand could trace The forgotten years of births and deaths I knew And counted my blessing out thought they seemed few
Yet precious to me for in my dreams there came The One we label God, the Lord, the Name Who spoke to me so softly as the Divine Of a new world in which we are the sign
Of transformation to a higher kind That all must become, that all must find.
Poems Undated (1727)
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