Speak to me, oh ye mountains
And tell me, what would you say
At the thought that you are not that massive,
But only papier-mache'?
That you were merely put there
In a moment of finite time
To be the instructive backdrop
For a play with a plot most sublime?
In fact, are you not the product
Of a skyquake unspeakably great,
Which came in a past day of judgment,
When a culture repented too late?
Is your breathless height not now a witness,
With your deep crevasses as well,
Of the power of the Lord of the cosmos,
The realness of heaven and hell?
We shall learn from your jagged protrusions
The serious nature of things;
How the God of the vales and the summits
Is more than The Lord of the Rings.
We therefore shall serve the Creator
Who sustains all He ever has made;
Then well meet in the highlands of heaven
Where towering joys never fade.