GIRD me with the strength of Thy steadfast hills,
The speed of Thy streams give me!
In the spirit that calms, with the life that thrills,
I would stand or run for Thee.
Let me be Thy voice, or Thy silent power,
As the cataract, or the peak, —
An eternal thought, in my earthly hour,
Of the living God to speak!
Clothe me in the rose-tints of Thy skies,
Upon morning summits laid!
Robe me in the purple and gold that flies
Through thy shuttles of light and shade!
Let me rise and rejoice in Thy smile aright,
As mountains and forests do!
Let me welcome Thy twilight and Thy night,
And wait for Thy dawn anew!
Give me of the brook's faith, joyously sting
Under clank of its icy chain!
Give me of the patience that hides among
Thy hilltops, in mist and rain!
Lift me up from the clod, let me breathe Thy breath!
Thy beauty and strength give me!
Let me lose both the name and the meaning of death,
In the life that I share with Thee!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem