A Hymn for High Places

A climber's anthem, ripe for rediscovery

In darkened days of strife and fear,

When far from home and hold, 

I do essay my soul to cheer 

As did wise men of old ; 

When folk do go in doleful guise 

And are for life afraid, 

I to the hills will lift mine eyes 

From whence doth come mine aid.

I shall my soul a temple make

Where hills stand up on high ; 

Thither my sadness shall I take 

And comfort there descry ; 

For every good and noble mount 

This message doth extend— 

That evil men must render count 

And evil days must end.

For, sooth, it is a kingly sight 

To see God's mountain tall 

That vanquisheth each lesser height 

As great hearts vanquish small ; 

Stand up, stand up, ye holy hills, 

As saints and seraphs do, 

That ye may bear these present ills 

And lead men safely through. 

Let high and low repair and go

To where great hills endure ; 

Let strong and weak be there to seek 

Their comfort and their cure ; 

And for all hills in fair array 

Now thanks and blessings give, 

And, bearing healthful hearts away, 

Home go and stoutly live.

C. Hilton Brown. Aug. 22, 1917.