Читать книгу Cross Roads - Margaret E. Sangster - Страница 12

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A storm may rage in the world below,

It may tear great trees apart;

But here on the mountain top, I know

That it cannot touch my heart.

I have struggled up through the lightning's glare,

I have walked where the cliffs fell sheer

To a gorge below, but I breathed a prayer,

And my soul passed doubt and fear!

Here on the mountain top the air

Is clear as a silver song;

And the sun is warm on my unbound hair;

AND WHAT THOUGH THE WAY WAS LONG?

What though the way was steep and bleak,

And what though the road was hard?

I stand at last on the mountain peak,

With my eyes upraised to God!

A storm may sweep through the world below,

It may rend great rocks apart;

But here on the crest of the world I know

That it cannot touch my heart.