Year: 1869

~
stand to-night on the cold bleak hill,


With the lights of the city below;
Where the bells are clashing in resonant thrill


Through, the darkness to and fro.
The great bridge flashes its lights along


Over the river beneath,
Like an arch of hope that is brightly sprung


Beyond the waters of death
And the grand old hills that pierce the sky,


Stretch dimly out of the glow
OF the lamps-as slopes eternity


From the passing years below.
Yet ever think when the lamps are lit,


And show to the streets their flame,
From the dark hills heart, where the shad-


ows fit,
The glare Of the lamp-light came!
Like a spirit unbound from a rocky tomb,
From the prison of untold years,
In the nurturing night of the mountain S
gloom,
The light of the lamp appears.
Like prisoned thought in the worlds long
y night,
Like prophet in darkness lost,
1t burst on the world in a flash of light,
Like the tongue of Pentecost
All! who shall read in its passing CLEAN,
The depths of its history,
When it lived in the hills heart like dream,
And a wonderful mystery;
When it felt the base of the great world rock,


And the grapple of land and sea,
| In the weary hope that the ages shock
At last would set it free?


But ever the silence deeper grew
As the mighty hand of Time
Piled high and higher against the blue
The prison walls sublime. -
Twas the hand of man that broke the bar,
! And set that spirit free,
| To fall with the light of golden star
| On the path for you and me.
| And think there is never cleaning hope
| That falls on field or lood,-
But twas nurtured first in the awful slope
OF the silent hills of God
The light that lightens the path of years
| And half transfgures the gloom
| That strikes luster on our tears,


And beauties the tomb;
That leaps with glow on the outer world
Was held through ages lone
In the mind of God; It'll downward hurled,
| 1t flashed and became our own.
he movements of thought that come and go


In passing and vibrative thrill,
I Like spark of the flint and the diamond
glow,


Are the growth of the ages still.


TIE frailest thought by the Fancy turned
Is the child of eternity:
Asthe lowliest light that ever burned,
| Is the bloom of Il century.


The crashes of Time we sometimes dream,


And the worlds impassioned strife
Can lift prisoned truth to gleam
| On the brow of a nobler life ..
Thatthe movements strange of circumstance


Like the roll of a troubled sea,
Can toss up pearls from sea of chance,


To daylight glad and free.


But if ever the thoughts that crystalize


In the mighty Masters plan,
| Shall kinlle the vision of mortal eyes,


They are brought by the hand of man.
Dy eiiO hiuo VI d pHtieho Pl' oii III l"ieh'
| That delves in the mines of God.
The light is thrown ON the darkened path
| Our pilgrim feet have trod.


A nd if as we stand from year to year,


On the dim out look of life,
The arch of hope more brightly clear
| Springs over the futures strife,
1t stealics our feet in the chilly night,


TO think that deepening glow,
Gets all it has of q blessed light


From the deeps of the long ago;
From the changeless thought and the endles


plan,


Where God has locked his will,
That it burns forever, for quench none can


The light of the ho1yshill.